


It Went Like This

by RenjiFan (NotSoLittleLight)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Comedy, Early Work, Living Together, M/M, POV Jensen, Pining, a gassy, bottom!Jensen, gassy mess, jared is a mess, top!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoLittleLight/pseuds/RenjiFan
Summary: Jared’s tall and gassy and the biggest dork in the history of the planet. Jensen’s got the feeling that moving in with him is going to be the biggest mistake he’s ever made. But damn if he can say no when Jared is so… Jared.





	It Went Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Oct. 20th, 2008 on LJ. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Original author note with fic: This was supposed to be a quick, cracky ficlet derived from a prompt picked up over at cracktastic_j2. Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you want to see it), my Jensen!muse took over and it became this giant thing that kinda came out over the course of a 48 hr. period. The prompt was “Jared says weird things after burping.” Yeah, thanks muses, for taking off with that one.

The first time it happens, Jensen simply cocks a brow in Jared’s general direction with a “ _What the hell?_ ” written clearly on his face.

 

Jared squints at him. “What?”

 

Jensen turns back to his PSP and shakes his head. “You just let out one of the most massive  _belches_  I’ve ever heard and then proceeded to quote Tolkien. Dude, seriously.”

 

Jared giggles, like the school-girl Jensen always tells him he is. “You said ‘belch.’”

 

“’ _Burp’_  does not cover that impressive display of gaseous bodily release, Jay,” Jensen says matter-of-factly into the screen as he tries so, so hard to get his character through the massive zombie attack.

 

Jared giggles again as Jensen’s character is beheaded.

 

Jensen sighs.

 

~*~

 

The second time it happens is just as surprising, but different. Sure, Jensen is used to one or  _both_  of them displaying their man-prowess with brightly shining, and completely masculine displays of  _“Who can release the most gas without killing the other person_ ,” but this is something that makes Jensen think Jared maybe has a problem with containing himself.

 

They’re sitting in the green-screen Impala, waiting on one of the techs to finish lubing the camera track with something that resembles jello and Sadie’s poop after a seriously bad taco when Jared lets one rip.

 

It’s long, drawn-out and rumbly, not unlike any or all of Jared’s previous burps and Jensen curls a lip to fight away the impending grin. “Dude.”

 

Jared hums contentedly and looks over at Jensen. “I’m thinking of adopting an albino donkey and naming him Ed. Oh, and I think I might propose to Sandy.” He grins, wide teeth sparkling, dimples deep enough to host a pig roast in.

 

Jensen’s reply is caught in his throat as Kim shouts across the sound stage for them to get into their places. He blinks rapidly as he turns to stare out of the windshield, hands wrapping around the familiar steering wheel maybe a little bit  _too_ tight, but he refuses to let himself think about it as the camera pans in for their take.

 

He purposefully does  _not_  think about how his stomach feels like someone’s given him the worst gut-shot of his life the second the words “propose” and “Sandy” popped out of Jared’s mouth.

 

_Who names their donkey_ Ed,  _anyways_?

 

~*~

 

“But Jen, it  _sucks_!” Jared whines, kicking a defenseless rock resting quite comfortably in front of his truck, which just happens to be parked beside Jensen’s in front of Jared’s house.

 

Jensen picks up his duffel bag and drops it unceremoniously into the trunk of his rental car. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, Jay.” He closes the trunk and turns to his pouting friend. “I’m sorry, if it’s any consolation.”

 

Jared huffs and crosses his arms about his chest. “I don’t wanna do the con if you’re not gonna be there.”

 

Jensen laughs and punches Jared in the arm. “Sure ya do. You’ll want the ego trip after gettin’ the hell beat outta ya by Jason for six weeks.”

 

Jared grins, his arms falling to his sides. “Fucking  _Jason Voorhees,_ man!”

 

Jensen grins back, can’t help it and pulls Jared into a quick hug, patting his back. Jared’s long arms wrap around him and Jensen feels his heart speed up, just a little, as the warmth of those giant fucking hands seeps through his shirt.

 

Jared turns his face into Jensen’s neck, his lips brushing against Jen’s ear and sending a shiver though him that is quickly halted as he’s blasted with the rankest smelling burp in the history of history. He is just about to push away and complain, possibly rip his own nose off when Jared’s lips touch his ear again as he whispers, “I’m gonna miss you, man.”

 

Jensen sighs, pats Jared’s back one more time before pulling away and looking at his scuffed up boots. “Yeah, me too.”

 

Jared nods solemnly as Jensen crawls into the driver’s seat of his rental, pulling the door closed and sighing heavily. Saying good-bye to Jared is never easy when they part for hiatus, but this year… This year, it feels different. It feels like he’s saying good-bye to a part of himself he’s just discovered, a part he  _really_  doesn’t want to go without. The fact that just yesterday, Jared helped him move most of his stuff into the spare bedroom of his house and grinned at him with the most dorkalicious grin, singing “Roomies, roomies, Jensen is my roomie,” doesn’t do anything but make this separation  _that_ much harder.

 

He starts the car and glances in the side-view mirror to see Jared still standing there, his arms once again crossed against his huge chest, watching with a sadness in his eyes Jensen can relate to. He offers a little wave that Jared returns before putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the driveway, his eyes never leaving the road in front of him until he hits the airport parking lot.

 

 

~*~

 

 

The set for  _My Bloody Valentine_  isn’t bad, but it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t settle into Jensen’s skin like  _home_  like the Vancouver sets do. The air is thicker with the humidity hanging heavy in the sky and looking around, watching as various people do various jobs to set up for a scene, he feels disconnected. He doesn’t  _know_  these people like he knows the people on the  _Supernatural_ set. Doesn’t feel like he knows  _himself_  around them.

 

He sits down on a prop bench situated between two trees on the street-side, idly watching as Kerr laughs with one of Jamie’s stunt women. He thinks Kerr’s pretty smart, going for the girl who  _looks_  like a model but  _isn’t_  and could  _totally_  kick Jamie’s ass for being a pretentious snob. If it ever came to that, of course.

 

His phone vibrates suddenly against his thigh and Jensen is spurred from his internal musings. It’s just as well, he figures, as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. Internal musings usually end up bad for Jensen, and it’s a sad fact that even  _he_ realizes how much of an introspective asshole he is sometimes.

 

The pixilated screen is flashing Jason Voorhees’ mask as Story of the Year’s “In The Shadows” pulses from the small speaker. He clicks “accept” and brings the phone to his ear, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s been two weeks since they’d caught up with each other, both of them shooting and always calling mid-scene. Phone tag was never a game Jensen was good at, but Jared made it fun, kinda like everything they did… But Jensen was totally not thinking that in a girly way, no siree!

 

“Hey!” Jensen answers, just in time for Jared to release an ear-rupturing burp into his ear. Jensen scowls and looks at the phone with a screwed up look on his face before bringing it back to his ear. “Jay?”

 

“Dude. You totally ruined it! I was holding that in  _all day_  just so I could put it on your voice mail!” Jared squawks and Jensen can’t help the laugh that escapes him, suddenly feeling lighter than he has since he stepped foot on the plane headed out of Vancouver.

 

“I’m  _so_  sorry to disappoint,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What’s up, man? You havin’ fun gettin’ your ass handed to you?”

 

Jared scoffs and Jensen can just see the dismissive wave of his hands. “Whatever, Jen. It’s  _Jason._  Gettin’ beat up by Jason is like an honor. It’s like being knighted!”

 

Jensen shifts, settling back onto the bench and spreading his arm along the back as he grins. “Sir Jared? You’re not gettin’ a big head about this at  _all_ , are you?” he teases and Jared laughs, loud and full and Jensen can’t deny the bloom of heat in his gut.  _Goddamn,_ but he  _misses_  that tall, goofball dork.

 

“What time you get done tonight?” Jared asks suddenly, and Jensen hears the shuffle of something on the other end of the line.

 

“Probably around eight or so. Why?”

 

Jared is quiet a moment. “I was thinkin’ we could get on Live. Maybe shoot something and randomly team up on chatty teenagers together? If you’re not passed out and being  _old_  like always.”

 

Jensen laughs and sits up. Suddenly, the idea of playing on Xbox Live with Jared sounds like the best thing since sliced bread. “Yeah, I think I can arrange that. You gonna be free by 9 Eastern?”

 

He can hear the smile in Jared’s voice as he answers. “Bring it, Grampa.” He laughs a little then stops suddenly and Jensen can hear someone calling for him on the set.“Oh, man. I gotta run. I  _hate_  the fx blood here, man. Smells like ass.”

 

“God, not yours I hope,” Jensen says teasingly as he stands and brushes some pollen from his jacket.

 

“Hey, Jen?” Jared suddenly sounds serious and Jensen’s ears pick up the shift.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jared burps again, this one nowhere near the previous one, but still pretty impressive and Jensen shakes his head. “I broke up with Sandy.” He says quickly, the tone of his voice off, pace rushed. Then, “Gotta go.”

 

Jensen doesn’t get a chance to respond before the line goes silent, the call dropped. He can’t help but stare at his phone for a few moments, his brain taking a minute to kick into gear and realize the words that came out of his best friend’s mouth. Jared broke up with  _Sandy_ _._  He  _broke up_  with Sandy.

 

And he had once again displayed that he was definitely the number one gas-producing male in this friendship.

 

~*~

 

Danneel is a great girl, she really  _really_  is, but as they sit at the restaurant, surrounded by actresses that Jensen doesn’t know, he’s feeling a little uncomfortable, despite her sitting beside him.

 

“I think Ava’s just got this  _thing_  about screwing the stunt man. Kinda like a compulsion, ya know? Can’t help it,” one of the girls, Jessica, rattles on, before popping the remainder of her breadstick between her perfect teeth. Jensen watches the action and wonders how much Jessica paid for all of her dental work.

 

He can’t help but judge these girls, these  _friends_  of Danneel’s, just for the simple fact that they are the typical Hollywood stereotypes. They’re judgmental, catty, perfect by man-made means, and evil little bitches if you get on their bad sides, but completely submissive and sweet if they think you can do something for them. Hell, the only reason they even accept Jensen in their company is because Danneel made it sound like he was a sex god or something, which, while he finds it amusing, was really kinda unnecessary. Or at least, it  _should_ have been unnecessary.

 

It  _would_ have been unnecessary if Jensen was actually a  _boyfriend_  in a real sense of the word. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that their agents had agreed they needed to make a few public appearances while he was in LA for hiatus, this whole group dinner-date idea would’ve been adamantly refused on the spot, because  _this?_  This is Jensen Ackles’ idea of hell.

 

But, yeah, Danneel, for the most part is a great girl. She’s smart, funny, amazingly beautiful and can handle a bottle of Jack Daniels better than Jensen’s grampa. It was reason number one, when after Joanna decided she wanted to settle down with a  _real_  boyfriend, or, at least, one that wasn’t batting for the home team, that Jensen had agreed when his agent suggested he “hook up” with Ms. Harris.

 

Sometimes, he hated her a little because she was reaping the benefits of publicly dating a “successful actor,” without any of the downsides such as actually being faithful or having to accompany him to  _every_  boring CW press event. He hated her because, in essence, she made him feel like a liar, but he knew it wasn’t  _her_  fault he had to cover up his sexuality. It was a decision made by him and his agent a  _looooong_  time ago, when the fact that his pretty face and lithe body made him less likely to get any good roles that didn’t involve him dancing around,  _in a kimono, for God’s sake._

 

“Jensen?” Jensen is broken from his thorough study of Jessica’s working mouth and turns to blink at Danneel.

 

“Hmm?”

 

She smiles at him adoringly; the perfect picture of a smitten girlfriend and Jensen knows it’s not all pretend. She  _does_ adore him, and he adores her, but it’s nowhere near what her giggly friends think it is. And when she touches his arm and asks “Would you mind if we took off? I’m not feeling too well.” Jensen thinks he may even love her a little.

 

They say their good-byes and Jensen helps her into her small, mid-drift denim jacket before they head toward the exit. As he holds the door for her, he whispers, “Thank you,” and means it more than probably anything he’s ever said.

 

When she smiles at him, it’s scandalous. “You wanna grab a beer?”

 

He groans and gives in to his urge to cuddle her. “You are the  _best_  pretend girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

 

She laughs and pinches his side, but not hard enough to actually hurt. “Come on. I’m dyin’ for a burger.”

 

* 

 

“So, how’s the house-hunting going?” Danneel asks before taking a long pull from her Corona.

 

Jensen groans around his burger and swallows thickly before shaking his head. “Not well. I mean, they have some good places and all, but it’s all just… it’s too much for just  _me_ , ya know?”

 

Danneel nods and places the bottle back on the table between them, picking at her fries before settling on one covered in ketchup and plopping it in her open mouth. “You could always stay with Jared,” she says, holding a hand over her mouth to save Jensen from the sight of masticated potatoes.

 

Jensen thinks on that for a moment, then shakes his head again, not liking the direction of his thoughts. “I couldn’t do that. I mean, it would put him out, me being around all the time, and he’s just broken up with Sandy. Gotta let the guy have his freedom, ya know? He wouldn’t want me there all the -” he rambles, not realizing it until he sees the amused smile on Danneel’s lips. “What?”

 

She chuckles lightly. “You’re so full of shit, Jensen. You know Jared would give his left nut for you to move in with him.”

 

He stares at her incredulously for a moment. “Whatever,” he says, dropping the subject and taking another bite of his burger. Sometimes, just  _sometimes_ , he wishes that he and Danneel didn’t get along as well as they did, that she didn’t understand him as well as she does, that she didn’t  _get_  him. It’s confusing.

 

“Just do it. What’s the worst that could happen?” Danneel, obviously, did not understand that him biting off half a cow worth of burger meant that he wanted to move on to another topic and he sighed around the huge portion of beef in his mouth. Danneel’s eyes were curious, alight with mischief, and he maybe hated her a little bit for putting him on the spot. He’d been forcing himself to  _not_  think about living with Jared for the last two months. This was the last thing he needed.

 

Jensen takes his time chewing, staring daggers at her as her grin widens. Finally swallowing down his food, he wipes his hands on his napkin idly, looking over to the side of the small pub they were currently sitting in. “Ain’t that easy, and you know it, Dani.”

 

Danneel huffs, sitting back in her chair. “You are so infuriating sometimes, Jensen,” she says, her voice revealing that she isn’t exactly irritated, but more concerned than anything. “He’s your best friend.”

 

Jensen looks back at her and sighs. “Yeah. Exactly.”

 

~*~

 

The house is quiet when Jensen arrives and it kinda throws him a little. He’s not used to the lack of music playing in the background, the obvious lack of playful barks and swooshing tails as soon as he opens the solid oak door, the lack of Jared’s voice shouting, “Hey man, the beers are cold and I ordered pizza!” from the living room as he fumbles through yet another song on Guitar Hero.

 

Jared will be back in a day, giving them exactly one week to relax before starting up on Season 4. It’s exciting, getting back on set with all of the familiar faces and with what he’s seen of the script so far, he and Jared are gonna have their work cut out for them this year. The thought alone makes Jensen’s blood hum with anticipation. He can’t remember loving a job more than working on Supernatural.

 

He lugs his duffel into the living room and drops to the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He’s got one week to find somewhere suitable to live, somewhere that isn’t  _too_  big, isn’t too much money, but more importantly, isn’t  _here_.

 

He sighs and rolls onto his side, tucking himself into the cushions on the back of the couch. Life shouldn’t be this hard. Life shouldn’t include wanting his best friend and co-star, shouldn’t put him in a position to have the  _choice_ to  _move in_  with him. It’s so, so tempting. He feels like a starved and caged animal, faced with salvation in the form of a pound of fresh, raw meat. And life keeps adding seasoning so he can’t  _help_  but smell it sitting there, waiting to be devoured and it would be  _so, so_ sweet to indulge.

 

He could be with Jared, all the time, as if their 14 hour days aren’t enough. He’d have him in the morning, sleep-rumpled and barely coherent, have him after his almost neurotically planned work-outs and at night when he’s exhausted. And the more he thinks about it, the more Jensen realizes how much that is  _exactly_  what he wants, and that’s the number one reason why he  _really_  needs to find his own place.

 

His resolve set, Jensen stands and rubs a hand over his face. He picks up his duffel and trudges to his room, dead set on finding  _somewhere_  to live that doesn’t involve temptation and gargantuan, irresistible best friends that are just that. Friends.

 

~*~

 

The sound of Jared’s arrival is punctuated by the sounds of nails scraping against the hard wood of the entranceway, excited yips and a very sudden, very loud BOOM and even louder, “Son of a bitch! Harley!”

 

Jensen scrambles from the air mattress, his laptop falling from his lap onto the floor with an audible clang as he rushes to his feet and out of the room. When he reaches the front door, he stops immediately and begins to laugh harder than he ever remembers laughing, even when Jared ripped his pants in that cemetery.

 

“Dude, it’s not funny,” Jared protests, even though there’s a slight grin on his face. He’s on his ass, Sadie sniffing his chin as he tries desperately to untangle his legs from Harley’s leash and his overnight bag strap. Jensen watches, his laughter dying down to a snorting chuckle as he holds his hand out for his friend.

 

Jared, finally unraveling the blue cord that’s wrapped around him 8 times, pulls the leash away from his shoe with a huff. He looks up, smiling widely as he takes Jensen’s hand and hefts himself to his feet. Jensen doesn’t get a chance to voice the “Welcome Home” on the tip of his tongue before he’s wrapped up in all 800 ft. of Jared’s arms, Jared’s forehead resting on Jensen’s shoulder like a pillow.

 

“Man, it’s good to be home,” Jared says as Jensen hesitantly returns the embrace. His body is on fire at Jared’s touch, and he has to physically fight the twitch threatening his shoulder at the feeling of Jared’s breath ghosting his collarbone. He closes his eyes for the briefest of moments and allows himself to just  _feel_  himself wrapped in Jared, allow himself to inhale the combination of sweat and cologne and…  _Is that horseradish?_

 

“Dude, you smell like cocktail sauce,” he laughs quietly and the rumble of Jared’s reply is lost as one of his hands drifts over the fabric of Jensen’s shirt. “Can’t hear you when you’re talking into my shoulder, dorkass,” Jensen says amusedly.

 

He immediately misses the warmth as Jared pulls away and runs a hand through his hair. It’s that moment that Jensen sees how tired Jared looks. There are lines at the corners of his mouth, his cat-like eyes bloodshot and swollen. He bends down and grabs Jared’s bag and hoists it over his shoulder and he sees the appreciation in his friend’s face. “You get  _any_ sleep during the flight?” Jensen asks, a brow cocked curiously over his appraising eye.

 

Jared grins sheepishly and collects the leashes at his feet before hanging them on the hooks by the door. “Nah, not really. They put me next to this guy. Man, dude snored worse than you. Couldn’t use the ear plugs I took cause they started vibrating in my ear canal.”

 

“Oh, spare me,” Jensen snorts as he turns, purposefully knocking Jared with the bag as begins walking towards the stairs. Jared follows him, his suitcase in hand and they take the steps two at a time until they reach Jared’s bedroom. The door has already been nosed open and Jensen tilts his head as he watches both dogs on the bed, digging into the sheets at opposite ends before they turn once and lay down at the exact same moment.

 

“Dude, do they  _practice_  doing that shit?” Jensen asks in wonder as the dogs blink at them curiously. Jared smiles as he lays down his suitcase at the foot of the bed, motioning for Jensen to put the bag beside it.

 

“I think they were circus performers or something in another life,” is the reply, and even though it’s the standard Jared retort, Jensen can hear the fatigue laced through the words.

 

“You wanna get some sleep?” he asks, wondering if they’ll be able to shoo Harley and Sadie out of the bed long enough for Jared to take a nap, but his idea is quickly squashed as Jared shakes his head.

 

“I’m too hungry to sleep. We got any of those Hungry Mans left in the freezer?” Jared stretches his arms high above his head and Jensen absolutely does  _not_  look at the tanned skin peeking out from beneath his black polo. Absolutely  _not_. 

 

“Uh… I have no clue…” he mumbles, tearing his eyes from what is  _not_  smooth flesh to meet Jared’s eyes. There is an amused expression on his face and Jensen doesn’t stop to analyze what looks like adoration in his eyes before turning and heading for the stairs. “I’ll take care of dinner, man. You take a shower. You smell like a New Orleans seafood festival,” he hollers over his shoulder as he starts down the steps.

 

Half an hour later, Jared emerges in the kitchen and peeks over Jensen’s shoulder at the simmering pot on the stove. “You cookin’ for me, Jen? That’s so sweet!”

 

Jensen fights the giddy chill that runs over his back as Jared’s hair tickles the side of his face, his neck. It’s damp and still slightly dripping and he can feel the wet warmth seep into the back of his t-shirt as he stirs the pasta sauce.

 

“It’s just spaghetti. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he says with a slight shrug, more to mask the inevitable shiver than anything. Jared inhales deep and moans, and Jensen seriously wants to bite off his tongue to make the sensation of that sound  _stop_ , like immediately, thank you.

 

“Smells good. You got garlic bread?” Jared backs away and Jensen can hear him opening the fridge, rustling around to grab a beer.

 

“Already in the oven. Hey, will you-” Jensen turns and laughs as he sees Jared’s head still in the fridge, his arm outstretched toward Jensen with a beer. “grab me one?” he finishes needlessly as he swipes the cold bottle from Jared’s hand and pops the top off with his ring.

 

Jared stands and bumps the fridge closed with his hip before popping the cap off his beer using the underside of the counter. He looks a little more refreshed now, his eyes a bit clearer as he take a pull from the bottle, looking over the glass edge at Jensen. There’s warmth making its way up Jensen’s chest, spreading and coiling inside him, and he realizes that this is what he missed so much when he was in L.A.. It isn’t so much that he’s in Vancouver, but it’s the fact that he’s with Jared, and Jared, somewhere along the line, with his goofy grin and his barely tolerable bad jokes and his burps and farts that could kill a small nation, somehow he became  _home_  and that idea scares the ever-loving hell out of Jensen.

 

He realizes that he’s staring, lost in thought, and just vaguely processes that Jared is staring back, the bottle now hanging loosly in his hand.  “So, I’m goin’ to look at this place up near the set tomorrow,” he says abruptly, turning to stir the sauce, thankful for a reason not to face Jared at this particular moment, where he knows he can’t keep the warmth and fear he feels from showing in his eyes.

 

“You’ll hate it,” Jared says, and Jensen can hear the spice rack clink he sets his beer down. “You need to just stay here, man.”

 

“I don’t want to intrude, Jared.”

 

Any other words Jensen may want to say to support his refusal are cut short as Jared is suddenly behind Jensen again, his chest pressed firmly against Jensen’s back. “Would it really be so bad?” Jared asks, sticking a finger in the sauce and stirring it around before bringing it to his mouth. Jensen’s eyes track the movement and he can hear even his inner child moan with appreciation as Jared sucks the digit clean.

 

Jared cocks his head to the side and regards Jensen, awaiting an answer and it’s all Jensen can do to force himself to meet Jared’s eyes. Whatever Jared sees there, he must find it fascinating because the moment holds way too long, both of them silent as they just watch, search the other’s eyes for  _something_ , but Jensen doesn’t know what.

 

The moment is broken with a sudden noise that closely resembles the sound of an elephant trumpeting and it takes a moment for Jensen to realize what it was. “Oh, for God’s sa- Jared, dude, you’re RANK!” He shouts as Jared starts laughing, waving a hand through the air and heading out of the kitchen.

 

Jensen throws a wet dish towel at him and misses, wincing as it slaps against the wall and slides to the floor before hearing Jared call out, “Don’t burn my spaghetti sauce, bitch!”

 

~*~

 

The week goes by in a haze of beer, sleep, Guitar Hero and crappy movies. It’s probably one of the best weeks of Jensen’s life. He finds himself falling into routine with Jared as they prepare themselves for the early call times, going to bed earlier and earlier, getting back into their shooting schedules so they don’t drop dead during the first week back.

 

Jared, evidently, is actually a mother hen hiding in a giant man’s body, because every morning, he’s waking Jensen up with a soft shake, a cup of coffee already poured and cooled to a drinkable temperature in hand. Because he’s a freak of nature, Jared has already woken up, worked out  _and_  showered by the time he’s waking Jensen up and while he’d really like to pick on him about his narcissism outweighing the obvious benefits of beauty sleep, he finds he doesn’t have it in him as soon as Jared gives him a warm smile and waits until he sits up to hand him his coffee.

 

It’s the Saturday before filming begins, and they’ve made the decision to  _not_  go out and get shit-faced, lest they screw up all their hard work establishing a sleep schedule that won’t render them completely helpless when Kim assigns extra-early call times. This, however, does not stop them from drinking themselves stupid by 6pm, giggling like school children as they try to fold their laundry in the small room that houses the appliances.

 

It’s obvious that Jared’s love for fabric softener goes beyond what is healthy and Jensen can’t stop laughing long enough to explain that the little teddy bear isn’t actually  _real_  as he folds his pajama pants for the eighth time.

 

“Jen, look!” Jared pulls out this  _thing_  with protrusions, and it’s big and squishy and pink and Jensen squints at it, hoping it will dawn on him what the hell this thing is for if he stares at it long enough.

 

“What the  _hell_  is that thing, some kind of dildo for anatomically-incorrect porn stars?” He’s still staring and it’s still not making sense and now Jared is laughing even harder, doubled over the dryer and  _ohhh_.

_That’s_  a sight for the memory bank, for sursies.

 

“It’s a dryer ball,” Jared wheezes. “For static- ” Deep inhale and another laugh. “Cling.”

 

“Oh.” Jensen catches himself staring at Jared’s bent over figure and  _finally_  manages to fold his pants correctly and lays them on top of the pile on the dryer beside Jared’s giggling form before announcing “All done!” with more pride than he really should over completing the task at hand.

 

Jared straightens and plops the weird, ball, thingy on the pile of clothes and works a kink out of his shoulder as he peers at Jensen. “I call the pizza place - you set up Guitar Hero?”

 

Jensen nods his affirmative and points toward the hall leading to the living room. “Onward, young one!” he shouts and Jared laughs again as they march out of the laundry room, Jared humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic as loud as he can.

 

An hour and three more beers each later, Jared has beaten Jensen’s ass at Guitar Hero twelve times, they’ve eaten a large pizza each and Jensen is throwing a tantrum.

 

“I don’t wanna play that damned game anymore, Jared!” he shouts, taking off the damned guitar controller and letting it fall to the floor.

 

“Oh, don’t pout, Jen. It’s so unbecoming of you,” Jared teases and Jensen scowls.

 

“I am  _not_  pouting!” He makes a point to suck his bottom lip into his mouth and bites down on it to ensure the truthfulness of this statement.

 

“You’re just a sore loser,” he says, poking Jensen in the side with one of those ruler length fingers and Jensen yelps.

 

“I am not! And don’t poke- dammit, Jay, quit fuckin’- ” Jensen chokes on a laugh as Jared pokes him in the ribs, going straight for the spot he damned well  _knows_  Jensen can’t help but laugh when anyone so much as brushes it. “You son of a- Dammit! Quit – fuckin’ – ticklin’ me!” Jensen yelps out in between bursts of laughter and he wants to murder Jared with one of the serrated kitchen utensils as he laughs that loud, boisterous laugh that tells anyone in a five mile radius that he is the most simple minded being on the face of the planet.

 

“Oh, what’s wrong, Jen? Ticklish?” Jared continues to poke, evading Jensen’s arm as he tries to bat him away. Jensen is crawling further away from him on the couch until he feels the arm but up against his back and he falls, frantic as Jared brings around his other arm to begin participating in “Let’s Torture Jensen til He Pisses Himself Day.”

 

Jensen lands on the floor with a solid boom and Jared’s right behind him, too fast for Jensen’s flailing arms, digging his fingertips into Jensen’s ribs with marksman worthy precision. “You- ” Jensen can’t breathe, can’t stop laughing and  _dammit,_  this sucks. “Fucker.”

 

Jared laughs again, reminding Jensen of those evil fuckers with the long mustaches that always tied pretty girls to railroad tracks and Jensen brings a knee up quickly, wrapping his leg around Jared’s thigh and twisting before Jared can get a word in edgewise. Jared falls with a surprised “Hoshit!” and lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

 

Jensen climbs to his knees and crouches beside him, panting and cursing and unable to keep the stupid-ass grin off his face. “I hate you,” he huffs down at Jared and Jared beams back up at him.

  
“You love me,” he says, flinching as Jensen smacks him in the center of his chest, then laughing as Jensen continues to struggle for breath as he climbs to his feet and picks up his guitar.

 

“Well? We gonna play the damn game or not?” 

 

~*~

 

By Wednesday, Jensen is beginning to rethink his decision to be an actor. No, seriously, because digging your way out of your own grave, even if it’s just about three inches of dirt and you’re totally safe and there are people all around? None of that really matters to Jensen as he’s reaching through and pulling himself from the hole in the ground, some guy named Steve pulling down on his waist just enough from below to make it looks like he’s tunneling out of 6 feet of soil.

 

There’s dirt in his hair, on his face, under his nails. He has a sneaking suspicion he’s got a spider bite on the back of his ankle from laying below the make-shift grave waiting for his cue, and if Steve doesn’t let go  _just a little bit_ , Dean seriously isn’t going to make it out of that damned hole.

 

Jensen claws the ground, feeling a splinter make its way under his nail and he winces, pulling himself up to the marker set in the ground.

 

“CUT! Alright, guys, lunch-time.”

 

Jensen feels Steve let go and he falls face first into dirt, more of it jamming its way into his mouth.

 

“That looked  _so_  freaking cool, Jen. You have  _no_  idea,” Jared says excitedly as he runs up to Jensen. He looks up at him and scowls. He’s not even in his Sam clothes. Jensen spits out the grass hanging from his mouth and struggles to sit up.

 

“I don’t care how it looked right now. Bleh,” he spits again and scrubs at his lips. “My mouth tastes like fertilizer.”

 

“Smells like it, too,” Jared grins, sticking his hand out to help Jensen to his feet.

 

“Oh, suck a fat one, Paddywhack.”

 

Jared cocks a brow as Jensen attempts to wipe the dirt from his Dean jeans. “Are you propositioning me, Jen?” he asks, trademark Padalecki dimples forming on either side of his mouth.

 

Jensen mumbles “fucker” and shoulder-checks him as he begins walking off the closed off part of the park they’re in, Jared trailing behind him. “What are you doing here, man? Sam doesn’t even have any scenes til like four.”

 

Jared nods. “I wanted to watch. That scene, man, Sam never got to  _dig_  his way out of his own grave, ya know? He just sorta, POOF, woke up. This was so much cooler.”

 

“That’s because Dean’s kickass and Sam’s an emo bitch,” Jensen cracks as they stop at the craft services table lined up behind the cameras.

 

“You’re just jealous because Sam can work the mojo.” Jared grabs two containers and passes one to Jensen.

 

“Oh, Dean’s got the mojo,” Jensen grins, popping a roll into his container. “Sam ain’t even in the same  _league_  with Dean’s mojo.” He adds mashed potatoes to his selection before grabbing the tongs to grab some of the  _delicious_  smelling chicken beside him.

 

Jared laughs and throws a strawberry at him, the fruit bouncing off his chest and landing smack dab in the center of the mashed potatoes. “Dude. You just tainted my potatoes with… with  _fruit_ ,” Jensen says, his eyes wide in mock shock. “Fruit.”

 

Jared giggles and grins wide as he throws another strawberry. “You said taint.”

 

“Oh. My. God. It really is like working with a four year-old.”

 

About twenty minutes later, they’re laid out in Jensen’s trailer, CMT playing lowly on the TV as they eat their lunch. Jensen is completely dedicated to pulling every single piece of chicken from the bone as Jared munches loudly on what he describes as the “best chocolate chip cookie in the world. In the WORLD, Jen.”

 

“You know half of that cookie just ended up on my face, right? Say it, don’t spray it dude,” Jensen picks up a napkin and swipes it across his cheek, holding it up to prove his point.

 

Jared shrugs and takes another bite of the cookie, chewing with his mouth open, loudly moaning in appreciation.

 

Jensen’s ears prick up at the sound and he shifts. “You keep that up and it’s gonna end up on YouTube,” he mumbles distractedly, picking up his roll and taking a huge bite to give him something to distract him from the sounds coming out of Jared’s mouth. Like it isn’t bad enough he’s got this, this  _thing_  for Jared, the giant freak has to go and make sex noises while eating a freaking  _cookie._

 

_Life shouldn’t be this hard._

Jared finishes the cookie as Jensen continues to gnaw on his roll, staring blankly at the music video playing on the television. “So,” Jared starts and Jensen lets his eyes fall to meet Jared’s, who’s suddenly smiling wide, chocolate smeared on the side of his face. “I got you something.”

 

“Huh?” The roll is pretty much mush in his mouth and kinda nasty but Jensen forces it down with a sip from his water bottle. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

 

Jared beams as he reaches behind him and Jensen watches as he pulls out his wallet, flipping it open and retrieving what looks like a credit card. Jared smacks it on the smalls table and slides it over so Jensen can see. “You got me a card with a rocking horse on the front?” Jensen arches his brow and looks at Jared curiously.

 

“Idiot,” Jared huffs, flipping the card over. It reads  _Johnson’s Furniture_  with an address and a big “$800” marked out in black permanent marker. “To go toward your new bedroom set, since you had to use Mark’s all that time.”

 

Jensen stares at Jared in disbelief. “Jared, you didn’t.”

 

Jared nods, his grin wider, teeth gleaming. “I totally did. And if you say you don’t want to intrude one more time, I’m seriously going to impale you with your own plastic spoon.”

 

“Ow.”

 

“So, what do you say?” Jared’s grin loses some of it’s wattage as he watches Jensen, waiting.

 

Jensen hears his inner caged animal growl as it stands up and starts walking toward the bowl at the end of the cage. He looks down at the card, Jared’s fingers still resting lightly on it. He stares at it for a few hard moments before looking back up and meeting Jared’s gaze. Texans really do have a weakness for raw meat, after all.

 

“Guess we’re going shopping this weekend.”

 

Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jared smile like that before. And man, he could  _really_ get used to that.

 

~*~

 

Jensen zones out a lot on set. Not purposefully, but it happens, and it happens because he  _thinks_  a lot. He thinks about Dean, and his motivations, his feelings toward Sam… And that right there, that’s the big one this season. Things are so utterly fucked up between his and Jared’s character that sometimes, Jensen finds himself getting aggravated at Jared for something  _Sam_  did, and yeah, maybe character bleed is a bit of a bitch.

 

So, at the moment, he’s sitting at one of the white tables set up by the wardrobe trailer, idly sipping on his bottled water and staring down blankly at his script. This episode is tripping him out a little bit, the time travel and the younger versions of Dean and Sam’s mother and father and the simple  _absence_ of Jared on set has him kind of antsy. He’ _s_  tapping his pen thoughtlessly on the paper and when he feels someone’s hand touch down on his shoulder, he jumps, dropping the pen and almost upending the bottle into his lap.

 

“Oh, damn. Sorry, man!”

  
Jensen turns and sees Misha Collins, this season’s newest addition standing behind him with an apologetic look on his face. “No,” Jensen shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. What’s up, man? Have a seat.”

 

Misha nods and sits down in the chair across from Jensen. “You were thinkin’ pretty hard there. Something wrong?” he asks, and Jensen thinks that he kinda likes Misha. He’s a nice guy with a dedication to the art of acting that Jensen immediately recognized when they had their first scene together.

 

“Nah, nah. Just thinkin’ ‘bout Dean. He’s…” Jensen lets out a chuckle. “He’s a pain in my ass, sometimes, ya know?”

 

Misha nods, and crosses his arms on the table. “Well, I actually came over to ask if you’d mind gettin’ together sometime this afternoon to go over the final scene?” he asks hesitantly, as if he doesn’t want to impose and Jensen nods.

 

“Definitely. How ‘bout lunch?”

 

Misha smiles and nods, appreciation obvious in his expressive eyes. “Thanks,” he says, then motions toward the wardrobe trailer. “Time to get suited up.”

 

A few hours later, Jensen and Misha are in his trailer, propped up with their scripts in their laps, their styrofoam containers forgotten on the small table as they read through their lines. Misha’s character is an enigma, but it seems with each episode, the interaction between him and Dean becomes more involved, more dark, and Jensen is actually pleased that Misha wanted to run through the scene together before time constraints pressed them to do the scene in a way that wasn’t  _just_  right. And it seemed there were plenty of subtleties they could touch on with Castiel and Dean.

 

They finish reading through the scene and Misha sighs, setting his script on the table and running a hand through his already messy hair. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing with him, you know? It’s so different, playing a character who isn’t  _human_. It’s like I’ve lost all of my core foundations to pull from,” he admits with a shy smile and yeah, Jensen likes Misha.

 

Jensen is about to reply but stops short as the door to his trailer pops open with a bang, all 9 feet of his co-star barreling through with three to-go containers of food, a big grin on his face. “Jen, they have  _meatballs_.”

 

Jensen chuckles but doesn’t fail to notice Jared stop just a bit short at the sight of Misha sitting in his usual seat, hand still buried in his brown locks. He isn’t deterred though, just motions for Jensen to scoot over and plops down with a cheerful, “What’s up, Misha?”

 

Misha smiles and holds up his script, a look of tentative frustration marring his brow. Jensen knows that feeling, being unable to figure out something and dwelling on it until it finally clicks. He has faith it’ll click for him before they roll scene, because Misha really is an awesome actor. They were really close on the last run through, but it seemed there was something just out of reach for Castiel and they both had no clue what it was.

 

Jared nods as he opens up the first of the three containers and takes a big sniff, moaning in appreciation of the aforementioned meatballs. Jensen watches as Misha closes his lunch up, shuffling his papers together. “You takin’ off?” he asks curiously.

 

Misha nods. “I gotta call my wife before I head back to set,” he says casually before looking up. “Thanks for your help, Jensen. I really do appreciate it.” And Jensen can tell he means it.

 

“Not a problem, dude. Anytime,” he says back with a smile and he and Jared watch as Misha picks up his things, gives them a quick nod in parting and leaves the trailer, the door making a soft click as it closes behind him.

 

Jared turns and burps, loud, directly in Jensen’s ear. “He’s weird.”

 

Jensen stares at him incredulously for a moment before snorting. “You’re weird.”

 

Jared grins around a mouthful of meatball and holds up his fork, one of the meaty delicacies impaled on the plastic tongs. “Open up,” he demands and Jensen obeys.

 

Jared plops the meatball in his mouth and Jensen moans in appreciation. It really  _is_  good.

 

“See?  _Meatballs,_  Jen.”

 

Jensen can only nod in agreement and pick up his own fork to steal another.

 

~*~

 

When Kim yells “Alright, cut! Jared, goddammit!” during take 17 of scene 25 both of them know he’s pissed. Kim almost never calls them by anything other than “Sam” and “Dean” while filming, and by the tone of his voice, Jared’s in for an ass reaming that even the gayest of the gay wouldn’t enjoy.

 

Jensen waves a hand through the air, trying to disperse the nasty, lung-killing, poisonous and did we forget  _nasty?_  stench rifling through the car while Jared tries to stifle his snickers beside him. “Sorry, Kim. I’m just nervous,” Jared says, his voice strained through his laughter.

 

“You’re the most disgusting person I’ve ever met,” Jensen deadpans as he opens the car door to let in some fresh air. “What the hell did you eat? _Mexico_?”

 

Jared giggles full-force, not even bothering to hide it and they both look at each other as they hear Kim cursing not twenty feet away. The smile they share is scandalous, like what ten year-old school children look like when they get caught skipping class but Jensen can’t bring himself to care. He seriously thinks that Jared’s expulsions of body gas are going to eventually kill him, but it’s  _funny._  And the way Jared looks at him like he’s been in on the joke the whole time?  _Awesome._

 

“Jared, if you don’t squeeze your ass cheeks together for the next twenty minutes and get this scene, I’m going to choke you with your own shoelaces, you got it?” Kim hollers and Jensen snorts. Jared nods furiously before Kim finally asks, “Are we ready… _again_?”

 

They nod, feeling like scolded children and Jensen closes the car door, moving into position. As the camera pans back into place, Jensen hears Jared whisper beside him, “When we get home, I got a surprise for you.”

 

Jensen cuts his eyes toward Jared and sees a small smile on his lips, something completely different from his mega-watt smile and he wonders just what Jared could’ve possibly gotten him  _now_ , but he doesn’t say anything, just nods slightly and prepares as Kim yells “Action.” He’s never been more grateful for a scene where Dean doesn’t say a damn thing, because right now, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to speak if he tried.  _When we get home_ , is stuck on repeat in Jensen’s head, in that low, intimate whisper, and he can’t even deny to himself that he loves the way it sounds on Jared’s lips.

 

When they  _finally_  get home thirty thousand hours later, Jensen turns on the oven to heat up their left-over pizza while Jared takes the dogs out back. Jensen is exhausted. Season 4 is kicking his ass and they’re only on episode four. He vaguely wonders if Misha could  _really_  bring him back if he committed suicide just so he could get some goddamn  _sleep_. He kinda envies Jared, having most of last week off, save for the work he put in on his  _one_  scene and some voice work he came in for before the weekend. He cannot  _wait_  for the next Sam-centric episode so he can finally catch up on his rest.

 

He sets the timer on the stove after plopping in the remnants of their super bacon-cheeseburger pizza from last night when he hears Jared come up behind him. “Hey,” Jared’s voice is soft again, like earlier in the Impala, that same underlying  _there’s something I wanna say_  running through it that Jensen can’t place or rationalize.

 

He turns and looks at Jared, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. He can’t deny it, how much he loves this, how much having Jared day after day the last few weeks has made his life feel  _that_  much better… how hopelessly he’s falling for his best friend. “Hey.”

 

Jared smiles that soft smile again and Jensen notices he has a hand behind his back. His brow arches high as he watches Jared bring his hand around, revealing a small box wrapped haphazardly in today’s newspaper. He laughs quietly at the wrapping paper and takes the box from Jared’s out-stretched hand. “What is it?” he asks, unable to stop himself because  _duh_ , just open it stupid.

 

And that’s pretty much the look Jared gives him. He seems almost shy in that moment and that throws Jensen. Jared is  _never_  shy, even when he’s confiding in him, telling him things he doesn’t tell anyone else. Sure, he can be reserved, downright anti-social when the mood strikes him, but Jensen doesn’t ever remember Jared being  _shy_.

 

He turns his attention to the gift and makes his way over to the dining room table, placing it in front of him as he starts tearing away the front page news. Inside is a plain brown box, unmarked with a single piece of masking tape holding the flaps closed. Jensen peels away the tape and opens the box and inside are several handfuls of packing peanuts. He looks quizzically at Jared before pushing his hand through the opening and searching with his outstretched fingers.

 

When his fingers brush against the hard surface, he grasps hold and pulls it free from the box. It’s tiny and navy blue, something you’d see if you bought a necklace or bracelet from the mall, just a simple rectangular box. Jared nods, smile still in place as Jensen opens the box and finds a silver key, new, silver sheddings from being grinded down still littering inside the box.

 

“Jared, I don’t mean to burst your buddle, but I already have a house-key?” Jensen says, but it’s a question, the  _what the hell is this for?_ pretty much implied.

 

Jared’s smile finally cracks into a grin as his face lights up in excitement. Jensen lets out an  _oomf_  as Jared grabs his arm and tugs him toward the stairs, hopping them three at a time and Jensen fears for his face for a moment when Jared’s overzealousness almost ends up making him face-plant the fifth step. Jared’s a quick save though and soon, they’re standing at the doorway to one of the spare rooms, the one at the very end of the hallway that Jensen always cracked would make a better bathroom because of how small it was, even though it was almost as big as the bedroom he had back at Mark’s.

 

His eyebrow goes up again and his face screws up in confusion as he looks over at Jared, practically bouncing beside him and without a word, Jared lifts his hand and guides the key to the new lock.

 

Jensen seriously thinks he’s going to have a stroke. Like, right that second, he’s going to lose all motor function on one, maybe both sides of his body. He stares in open  _shock_  at the scene before him as the door swings open and blinks at Jared stupidly as Jared nods excitedly beside him.

 

The small spare room as been divided into two halves, counters lining either side. Not just  _any_  counters, but real, solid wood counters with cabinets and deep, industrial sinks on the far end of each one. Dark emerald granite counter tops line the cabinets, several dark wood shelves lining the far wall where Jensen  _swears_  there used to be a window. The room is completely dark, save for the light shining in from the hallway, and Jensen can see the large plastic tubs sitting out on the countertops, can see the bottles of developing solution, the newly installed and varying types of lights, the new vents that line the top of both walls.

 

“Jay….” Jensen is speechless. Jared had a  _dark room_  put in his house. No, wait - scratch that. Jared had a dark room  _BUILT_  in his house, and since the only photos Jared ever takes are with his DigiCam, Jensen can only assume that he did this  _just for him_.

 

“Do you like it?” Jared asks quickly and Jensen can only stare into the room, his lips not working, his brain going  _OH MY GOD OH MY GOD_  on constant repeat.

 

With a nudge from Jared, Jensen steps in and takes in the details of the room, runs his fingers over the smooth and newly installed countertops, eyes the different lights set up in various positions in the room. He can barely make out the hint of a seam where Jared had the window filled in and covered with shelves in the exact same stain as the cabinets. He turns to his friend and swallows, finding the action almost impossible around the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe you did this,” he says finally, staring at Jared in wonder.

 

Jared beams, teeth bared as a slight flush rushes to the tops of his cheeks. “You said you always wanted one, and the guy at the furniture store said he knew a guy and you were stuck on set while I was here and…”

 

Jensen doesn’t think, doesn’t stop for a second when the urge to hug Jared hits him, just steps up quickly, silencing Jared’s ramble by wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tight. His eyes burn just a little, but he closes them tight as he buries his face in Jared’s shoulder, slightly shaking his head as he lets out a laugh that says  _I can’t believe you_  while he really says, “Thank you.”

 

Jared’s arms wrap around him and rest on the small of his back. There’s no manly patting, no movement at all, his hands just resting, wrapped around Jensen as Jensen tries to remember how to breathe. Jared tilts his face into the crook of Jensen’s neck and he can feel the smile pulling on his lips as he replies against his skin. “You’re welcome.”

 

~*~

 

So, the thing is, Jared  _knows_  Jensen’s gay. It’d taken him until the middle of shooting season two to trust Jared enough with that little tidbit, but yeah, he told him and he knows and sometimes Jensen thinks Jared might be under the impression that it’s his job to  _remind_  Jensen of the fact on occasion, as if, somehow, Jensen had  _forgotten_  he likes the cock.

 

When Jensen sees the BuddyTV interview, he literally almost chokes to death.

 

“Jesus! Jen, you alright?!” Jared’s there, pounding on his back as he coughs up the traitorous jelly bean that wanted to go surfing in his windpipe.

 

“Son of a-” Jensen wheezes and Jared presses a bottle of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink. When the urge to vomit and/or  _die_  passes, Jensen takes a tentative sip from the bottle and leans back into the couch. The short interview is over and Jensen’s eyes flicker from the laptop in front of him to Jared’s concerned face.

 

“You ok?” his friend asks worriedly and Jensen nods.

 

“You  _do_  realize that every one of our fangirls is going to die of a heart attack, right? That is  _seriously_  going to affect our ratings.” His voice is rough from the coughing fit, but still teasing.

 

Jared’s expression changes from concerned to joy as he nods. “Had to tell ‘em the truth, Jen. Our fangirls  _deserve_  to know the truth of your epic man-crush on me. It’s… epic.” His tone is playful but there’s something in his eyes that Jensen can’t pinpoint, so instead he looks back at the laptop with a mock scowl.

 

There are so many things he could say to that. Deny it, shrug it off, pretend to be offended on behalf of homosexual men everywhere because seriously? Just because Jensen’s gay does  _not_  mean he has a  _crush_  on Jared. Seriously, except that he totally does, and probably a lot more.

 

“I do not  _drool_  in my sleep,” he fusses, crossing his arms about his chest and leveling a steely pout in Jared’s direction and when Jared laughs, leaning into him slightly, Jensen thinks that maybe was the perfect things to say, even if Jared burps in his face twenty seconds later.

 

~*~

 

It’s not rare for the CW to host their quarterly studio party in Vancouver, but it’s still weird for Jensen to be surrounded by people that are normally shooting in various parts of the US. Being in Vancouver, he feels almost secluded from them, but in an  _awesome_  way that only proves he really is a jaded and anti-social bastard sometimes.

 

They make it through the press on the carpet, stopping and playing it up for the cameras before stepping inside. Tom Welling catches Jensen’s attention and shoots him a wave, holding up his drink and silently asking if Jensen wants one, to which he nods so vigorously he thinks he shakes loose something in his inner ear. Tom grins and Jensen watches as he hollers something at the young bartender.

 

Jensen gives Jared a pat on the shoulder, letting him know he’s taking off and heads toward Tom, making sure he smiles appropriately at the fellow networkers in the large hall.

 

“Man, I love you more than oxygen right now,” Jensen says as Tom hands him his drink, Jack & Coke, like momma used to make and he takes a hearty sip, sighing as it burns his throat in the best way possible.

 

Tom chuckles and takes a sip of his own drink, something clear that Jensen assumes is fruity. Tom’s never been too good with the hard liquor. “Mike’s up. He should be here soon,” Tom says as he places his glass on the bar and licks the remnants from his lips.

 

“Hell yeah,” Jensen grins. There’s nothing like a party with Mike Rosenbaum. When Jensen had heard he was leaving Smallville, his heart had broken a little, knowing that randomly stashing women’s underwear in people’s backseats would be nowhere near as fun without Mike there to make sure they looked  _authentic_. That, and he had the uncanny ability at being completely and totally insane but making it work in his favor. People  _liked_  Mike. “So I take it we’re making a night of it, then?”

 

Tom grins, his full lips spreading. “Been  _months_ , man. We’re totally gettin’ shitfaced and destroyin’ somethin’ by the end of the night.” He bounces slightly in his designer shoes. “I can  _feel_  it.”

 

Jensen laughs and turns to find Jared talking with Chad, his hands waving animatedly in the air. Chad looks amused, his eyebrows drawn but a smile playing on his lips. It really was amazing, how  _everyone_  seems to love Jared, no matter who they were, no one could  _not_  like him and his goofy stories and stupid dancing and…

 

“Hey, baby,” Jensen hears Danneel’s smooth voice before he feels a hand wrap around his waist and he smiles, turning to kiss her forehead.

 

“Hey, Dani.” He takes in her turquoise dress, her hair standing out like an omen against the deep hue. “You look amazing.”

 

She smiles. “I know.” She rises to her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek before grinning at Tom. “Welling! How the hell are ya?”

 

Tom wraps an arm around Danneel as she slides in beside him and gives her a quick squeeze. “You do look awesome, Dan,” he says quickly before kissing the top of her head and letting her go. While Tom knows of her and Jensen’s mutual  _arrangement_ , being one of Jensen’s oldest friends, he knows better than to openly hit on her in public. That would defeat the purpose, after all. But Jensen can  _see_  the urge bubbling under Tom’s tanned skin, knows he’s repeating a mantra of “I’m still married” in his head and he can’t help but smirk. His pretend girlfriend is _hawwwwwwt._

 

“I hear Mike flew up. Ya’ll planning a boy’s night?” she asks, motioning to the bartender for a beer before turning her attention back to the two men in front of her.

 

Before either of them can answer, Jared’s voice comes from behind her. “Rosey flew up? Ohhhhh, shit!” Jared’s grinning as he walks up and bends down to kiss Danneel’s cheek and as if he could  _sense_  his name being spoken, there is a loud bang at the entrance to the hall and suddenly, all eyes turn to stare at Michael  _fucking_ Rosenbaum.

 

“Yo!” he shouts from the entrance as soon as he sees them by the bar, making his way toward them. He’s wearing a nice grey suit, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, as if he couldn’t make it the entire  _drive_  without pulling the constriction away from his throat. “What it is, mother _fuckers_?” he asks as he slides up and wraps an arm around Danneel’s waist, humming as he sniffs up her neck. “Mmmm, Dani, you smell good. Is that – mmmmm – it is.”

 

Danneel laughs and shoves Mike away, who proceeds to straighten and give them all the most evil, awe-inspiring and conspiratorial grin Jensen has ever seen. “Who’s up for some  _fun_  tonight?”

 

*

 

Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good in his  _life_. His feet look like they’re dancing on their own as he stumbles to the couch in their living room, barely processing the noise Jared, Tom and Mike are making as they struggle to make it through the front door.  He stumbles slightly and lands hard on the couch, giggling as he turns around and rubs his stomach contentedly.

 

“Jennnnnayyyy, where’d you go, man?” Mike is screaming at the top of his lungs and Jensen registers the sound of a smack from the hall and snickers.

 

“Dude, I want a  _cheeseburger_ ,” Jared is telling no one in particular as he heads into the kitchen. Jensen stares at the ceiling, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

 

The night has been one for the record books, that’s for sure. He looks down at the dirt staining his relatively expensive pants and can’t really muster up the energy to be angry. After all, it isn’t every day he gets to get into an impromptu wrestling match with Tom in a deserted parking lot after they’ve snuck onto the Smallville set, drawing tiny penises all over the door to Kristin’s trailer. Little penises complete with smiley faces and rainbows. Jensen giggles again and lets his head fall back onto the cushions, watching warily as Mike stumbles toward him.

 

“Jen- ay!” Mike singsongs before falling heavily on Jensen’s lap, his tailbone hitting his hip sharply.

 

“Oh my god. Fucker,” Jensen hisses, but he still can’t stop smiling. It’s three in the morning, he’s entirely too drunk and stoned and Mike is bucking his hips and hollering “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” at the top of his lungs and life is  _wonderful._

 

“You’re  _insane!_ ” Jensen yells, trying to push Mike off of his lap.

 

“Oh, come on. I can hold on for  _way_ longer than 8 seconds, motherfucker!” Mike laughs before finally relenting and falling gracelessly to the floor.

 

Jensen turns onto his side and blinks at Mike. “You look weird with hair, man. I’m not used to it.”

 

Mike grins, all teeth and runs a hand through his short, dark hair. “I look like a  _prince_ ,” he says primly before jumping to his feet. “TOM! We need more liquor. STAT!” and Jensen bursts out laughing as Mike proceeds to  _prance_  into the kitchen, his feet almost kicking his own ass in a fine display of his inner femininity.

 

“Jen! Music!” Jared shouts from the kitchen and there’s a crash of kitchenware and a curse and Jensen chuckles as he makes his way,  _very, very_  carefully, to his feet toward the iPod dock on the bookcase.

 

He hits the buttons at random, his eyes too unfocused to pick an actual song _,_  and starts bobbing his head and swaying his shoulders back and forth as Eminem’s “Just Lose It” starts blaring through the surround sound system.

 

Mike and Tom come in from the kitchen, already dancing slightly to the beat. Mike is humping the air as he walks, Tom just scrunching up his lips and bobbing his head as he brings the bottle of Jack to his lips, obviously fucked up beyond  _all_ recognition if he’s drinking something that wasn’t derived from a tree of some kind. Tom spits out a laugh as Mike spanks the air, his legs hopping up like he’s doing a double-dutch and then the break-down comes.

 

Jensen can’t help but laugh until his chest hurts as Mike stands straight, rapping along with Eminem and doing his best impression of a constipated rabbit. It’s probably the most amazing thing Jensen has ever seen.

 

That is, until Jared comes walking in from the kitchen with a tray filled with White Castle burgers and a mountain of fries. His white, collared dress shirt is untucked from his black pants, the top three buttons undone exposing a V of tanned, smooth chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is disheveled and in his face and he blows at it as he lays the tray on the living room table, looking up and meeting Jensen’s gaze before grinning and standing, pulling his hair away from his flushed face.

 

Jensen is not smiling anymore. He’s fucking  _hot_  all of a sudden, his shirt suffocating him, and he turns quickly on his heel and heads into his room to change into something not so life-threatening. Yeah, and get away from Jared before he jumps on him and rubs himself off on his thigh like a 15 year old fan-boy. Who knew getting drunk and high around your best friend/co-star/object of your wet dreams was a  _bad_  idea? Jesus H. Christ. Jensen is really gonna have to sit down and have a talk with himself when he’s finally sober. Like, in a decade.

 

He’s fumbling through the dresser  _Jared_  helped him pick out only six weeks ago, trying to find a t-shirt that doesn’t look like it’ll smother him while he’s not looking when he hears someone shuffle into the room.

 

“Jen?” Jensen’s eyes fly up to see Jared, in that  _fucking shirt_ , with his  _floppy hair_  and a tentative smile, hovering in his doorway.

 

“Hey,” Jensen says and it’s barely a breath. He can’t do this right now, can’t take the sight of Jared and the feeling of  _wantwantneednow_  that feels like it’s pounding in his chest like a bad remake of  _DrumLine_.

 

Jared steps toward him, his eyes hooded and gentle as he asks, “You okay?”

 

Jensen nods, turning back to his drawer, pulling out a green John Deere shirt and tossing it on his bed. “I’m just  _hot_  all of a sudden. What’s the heat on, anyways?” he rambles, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and he can’t get his fingers to work.

  
He’s still struggling with the third button when suddenly Jared is  _there_ , right in front of him, and Jensen can feel the heat of Jared’s thighs as they barely brush against his own. His eyes are drawn inexplicably to Jared’s hands as they rise, replacing Jensen’s on his shirt, sliding the pearl button through the small slit in a fluid movement. Jared’s body is so close and Jensen swallows thickly, pushing against the coiling in his stomach, mustering the courage to look up.

 

His breath catches in his throat as he meets Jared’s hooded eyes, green and blue blended together so well in the low light they look as turquoise as the dress Danneel had on at the party. Jared’s tongue comes out to swipe across his lips, a nervous movement and Jensen’s eyes fall to rest on the plump, pink and wet mouth as Jared’s hands fall to the next button, sliding it free to expose more of Jensen’s bare chest.

 

He stares, biting his own lip and feeling his eyes slip closed for a moment as Jared’s knuckles skim his stomach, moving to the next button and he opens his eyes to find Jared staring at his mouth. He releases his teeth’s grip from his lip in response, unconsciously licking over the teeth marks and watches as Jared tracks the movement with his eyes.

 

“Jay…” Jensen breathes and Jared looks up, meeting his gaze. His cheeks are pink in splotches, breath coming out in what sounds like strained huffs and Jensen feels something catch in his chest when those hazel eyes fall back to his mouth as those warm hands slip the last button free of its place, Jared inching closer.

 

“HEEEEEEY!” Mike screams and suddenly there's a loud thud as he runs full force and collides with the doorframe leading into Jensen’s room. Jensen jumps back quickly, turning and staring into the still-open drawer. “Jayyyy-reeeed, we need cheese. Like, immediately. I do not think you understand how much we need  _cheese_ , right this second.” Mike is rubbing his forehead, no doubt the point of impact from his encounter with the wood doorframe and Jensen doesn’t dare look over his shoulder until he hears Jared and Mike leave the hall, Mike rambling on about the importance of dairy in one’s diet and despite it all, Jensen can’t help but snort at how fucking  _insane_  Mike Rosenbaum is.

 

The fact that he just almost forgot all of his reservations and promises to himself and almost went through with kissing his best friend? He buries that shit quicker than Watergate, cause  _that?_  That’s something he’s  _never_  going to mention again.

 

And yeah, if Jensen wasn’t drunk and stoned and a complete idiot, he probably would’ve noticed he wasn’t the only one about to do some serious kissing, but ya know… he is.

 

~*~

 

“This coffee is really good,” Mike says distractedly as he flips the pages of the newspaper in front of him on Jared’s cherry dining room table. Jensen turns from his spot at the stove, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands on as he walks toward the table to sit across from him. The scent of bacon fills the kitchen, the pancakes already done and piled high on a plate in the center of the table next to a tub of butter and bottle of syrup. It amazes him that they can even  _consider_  food after all they got into last night, but that’s the thing about them, they’re not exactly normal in any sense.

 

Jensen blows over the top of his steaming mug and watches two squirrels chase each other outside of the bay window beside them. He’s spent the last half an hour of consciousness purposefully not thinking about anything that transpired the night before that didn’t involve Mike and Tom doing something that made him shoot liquid out of his nose, purposefully makes a blank spot in his memory where Jared was so as not to dwell on how stupid he feels for his actions last night.

 

He looks over at Mike when he hears him set down his mug, the papers rustling as he turns yet another page, probably searching for something worthwhile that doesn’t involve Canadian politics. “So…” Mike says casually, his eyes flicking up to meet Jensen’s for the briefest moment before continuing, “You and Jared look like you’ve really settled into this whole living together thing.” The words are light, but Jensen hears the underlying  _I saw you. I know how you feel. I_ saw _you._ in his voice and he visibly tenses, burning his tongue on his coffee and sputtering.

 

Wiping his burning lips on the back of his wrist, he shoots Mike a glare that clearly says  _Drop it._  while he actually says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice doesn’t sound like him and he knows he’s channeling Dean in that moment, knows it by the coldness and finality of the words, the curt way he turns his head back toward the window.

 

He stands after a moment and heads back to the stove, flipping the bacon and checking on the biscuits in the oven. He’s washing his hands for the millionth time since beginning breakfast when he hears the footsteps coming from the hall and through the living room. Jared emerges not seconds later, his hand running through his hair as he props himself against the breakfast bar and looking over at Jensen with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’.”

 

He’s wearing nothing but a pair of baby blue basketball shorts, the elastic waist resting perilously on his hips and Jensen forces back a smile he hopes doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “Mornin’”

 

They both turn to look at Mike when he snorts and says with a shake of his head, “You boys are unbelievable.”

 

Jensen holds up his title as the world’s worst towel thrower when he aims for Mike’s head and hits the potted plant to his far right, grimacing when the pot tips and falls to the floor with an audible crack.

 

~*~

Jensen’s whole plan of not thinking and/or talking about the whole incident the night of the party works  _great_  considering that the very next day starts four whole weeks of 15 hour days on set, shooting through 6 days a week before getting a full day to recover and start all over again. The pace is  _grueling_  and Eric shows up on set more than once to provide the needed pep talks to cast and crew, telling them how this season is so crucial to Sam and Dean’s story and how much he appreciates their hard work.

 

Jensen loves Eric. He’s a brilliant guy and an awesome person to work with, but he kinda wants to smack him and put him in a bag and throw him over a cliff the second time he starts in on the “This wouldn’t have even gotten this far if it wasn’t for each of you,” because really? Jensen hasn’t had more than three consecutive hours of sleep in the last 6 days, this is the third time he’s heard this shit in a month, and if he doesn’t get home soon, he’s going to murder someone, possibly himself. His gaze flickers to Misha and he once again wonders if he could pull him back from perdition, cause that would be  _awesome_ right now.

 

He knows he’s sulking, can’t help it, as he slumps in his director’s chair, pulling his jacket tighter across his chest as Eric finishes up and nods their way with a smile. Sermon over, they can finally go home and crash for an eternity. Oh, wait. Nevermind. They get about 23 hours before they have to come back and do this all over again.  _Wonderful._

 

“Come on, man,” Jared says, his voice just as exhausted as Jensen feels. He tugs lightly on Jensen’s jacket sleeve until Jensen lets out a tired sigh and climbs to his unsteady feet.

 

“You’re not driving,” Jensen says as they begin the trek to their trailers to pick up their bags and  _finally_  go home.

 

Jared shakes his head. “Cliff’s waitin’ with a car. I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere tomorrow so I’m just leavin’ my truck here.”

 

Jensen nods as they reach the stairs leading up to his trailer. “Want me to call ahead? Get something delivered?” he asks as he starts up the steps.

 

“Yeah. Anything but pizza,” is Jared’s reply as he walks the few feet to his own trailer.

 

They’re only in the house about two minutes before the doorbell rings and Jared slumps tiredly to the door. Jensen flips through the channels on the TV, settling on The Fifth Element before tossing the remote onto the table and settling back.

 

The scent of warm curry carries into the living room as Jared comes back with their food, two forks held between his teeth. Jensen sits up a bit, making room and Jared sets the food down, rationing it out between them before handing Jensen his fork.

 

They both settle back, propping their feet on the table and eating in quiet, companionable silence as they watch Bruce Willis blow shit up. It’s a great way to unwind after the last 6 days.

 

It’s hard to say if things have changed between them since that night. Neither of them have mentioned it, or even alluded to anything that happened that night, except laughing when Kristin left a threatening voicemail on Jensen’s cell that he  _had_ to share with Jared. They’ve barely had time to speak to each other when they’re not on camera, most of their conversations taking place, or rather  _not_  taking place on the drives to and from set, both usually too tired to do anything but enjoy the peace and quiet. They still spend their lunches together, but with the time constraints, they barely have time to eat, let alone bullshit or get into a heartfelt discussion, which, if Jensen has any choice on the matter, he would rather avoid at all cost cause that’s just…  _embarrassing._

 

But thankfully, between their hectic schedule and Jared being an awesome friend, it never comes up, and Jensen never has to fess up to how he really feels. Which, the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks this whole  _crush_  thing might be more than he originally thought. Sure, when Jared was with Sandy and there was that constant buffer between them, when they had their separate houses and time apart, it was easy to never let himself get too involved. It was a simple crush, something he was sure would fade with time.

 

But then, Jared and Sandy broke up… and things started getting intense and Jensen  _missed_  Jared so much when they were apart and then he moved in… and well, you know how it went. It’s definitely not just a small crush now. He’s in love with his best friend and co-star. Head-over-heels-stupidly-epically-unrequitedly-hopelessly in love.

 

And it sucks that it’ll never go any further than what they have, but Jensen  _knows_  things will change between them if he confesses, or even alludes to it. Jared’s never had a problem with Jensen being gay before, constantly teases him but wholeheartedly accepts him for who and what he is. He can’t risk losing the best friend he’s ever had in his life, can’t risk losing the relationship he has with Jared just to alleviate the need to have more. He can live with it, all of it, the pain of never knowing, the guilt of feeling this way and feeling like a liar when he finds himself thinking something a  _friend_  wouldn’t think, he can deal with it all as long as he can keep  _this._

Jensen takes a final bite of his curry chicken and closes the take-out box, sliding it onto the table before settling back into the couch. He watches the movie but doesn’t really see it, too preoccupied with his too-tired thoughts. He pulls the blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch down and wraps it around him, and soon he’s lost in his thoughts, the warmth and when he closes his eyes, the drift into unconsciousness is as easy as breathing.

 

*

 

The first thing Jensen realizes when he awakes is that he’s lying down and warm. So warm, and so comfortable. He shifts, burying his face deeper into the blanket wrapped around his shoulders when he realizes this wasn’t how he fell asleep. He’d been sitting on the couch, watching a movie, with –

 

Jensen’s eyes open slowly and it takes a moment to process the position he’s found himself in, literally.

 

His head is rested comfortably in Jared’s lap, his face turned toward his stomach and he can feel each breath Jared takes, slow and deep. Jared’s still asleep and Jensen’s knees are pulled up onto the couch, one of his arms wrapped around Jared’s front, hand tucked between Jared’s back and the couch. There’s a hand resting on his head, Jared’s fingers laced through the short fringe, his other arm wrapped loosely around Jensen’s back, hand curled into the bend of his spine.

 

Jensen focuses on controlling his breathing, afraid that the slightest change will awaken Jared and ruin this moment. He hates himself for enjoying it, for wanting it, but not enough to move, to wake Jared up. He doesn’t know how they ended up this way, doesn’t know why Jared’s hands are wrapped against him, but chalks it up to them being tired and it being so long since either one of them actually slept next to someone else.

 

He’s warm and comfortable and still completely exhausted and Jared feels so good, smells so good against him and Jensen bites his lip, deciding  _just this once_  he’ll indulge. Who knows if it’ll ever happen again, and in the morning, he can put on his flustered face to match Jared’s and they can bury this along with so many other instances where their friendship blurred a line or two.

 

Thoughts of the morning running through his head, Jensen realizes how uncomfortable Jared must be, how achy his back always gets if he sleeps anywhere but in his bed and guilt rides rampant in his chest alongside the  _need_  to be here, wrapped in Jared’s arms, safe and warm and sleepy.

 

It only takes him a moment to decide, really, because as much as he wants this, he knows how tired Jared is, and doesn’t want to be a contributor to any reason why he’d be uncomfortable tomorrow, or ever, really. So, slowly, Jensen pulls himself up, feeling Jared’s hands slip away and fall to his lap. He takes in Jared’s sleeping form as he sits up, his face softly illuminated by the colors playing on the television, which Jared must’ve muted before falling asleep. He looks so peaceful, his head tilted to the side, breath strong and deep from slightly parted lips, his hair falling to spill over his cheek. Jensen feels that familiar bloom of warmth coil tighter in his gut but he pushes it down and brings his hand up to brush Jared’s hair away from his face.

 

“Jay…” he whispers before letting his hand fall to Jared’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Come on, man. Wake up.”

 

Jared’s head turns toward him, eyes opening slowly. “Jen?” he asks in a sleepy whisper. It takes a moment for Jared’s eyes to focus on him and he looks at him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

 

Jensen shakes his head. “Nothin’s wrong man. We fell asleep on the couch.” He sits back and lets the blanket fall from his chest before throwing it over the back of the couch. “You need to go to bed or your back is gonna kill you in the mornin’.” He says the words quietly, still striving to maintain the stillness of the moment, knowing it was broken the moment he woke Jared up.

 

He’s taken by surprise, though, when Jared reaches for him, his fingers wrapping loosely around his bicep and pulling forward. “I don’t care. I don’t wanna move,” Jared says and looks up at Jensen, his eyes hooded but the obvious question hovering behind them. The problem? Jensen doesn’t know what the question is.

 

“Jay,” he says, his voice strained. He wants to know what’s going on, what’s happening, but all he knows is that Jared is staring at him and pulling him closer. “Your back-” he tries to say something,  _anything_  to press the pause button on this so he can have a moment to think.

 

“I. Don’t. Care.” Jared says, his voice no louder than a whisper but his tone thicker, deeper. He continues to pull Jensen toward him, not forcing, just showing him what he wants and Jensen finally relents, follows the motion until he has to bring a hand up to brace himself against Jared’s chest.

 

“What are you doin’?” Jensen finally asks, his face just above Jared’s, their noses only an inch away as they stare at each other through the almost-darkness. Jensen is entranced by the way Jared’s eyes seems to change color with each flicker of the television and his heart beats hard and fast behind his rib-cage, threatening to shatter his insides and break through his chest.

 

A smirk tugs at the sides of Jared’s mouth as he closes his eyes and inhales deep before opening them again. “What I should’ve done a month ago. Hell, what I should’ve done a  _year_  ago….” His voice trails off as his hand comes up and gently runs up through Jensen’s hair, molding to the back of his head, his neck tilting just enough to close the distance between them.

 

Jensen’s heart feels like its stopped as their lips touch for the first time. It’s nothing more than a gentle touch, a brush of flesh, warm and tentative and sweet, but it feels like an inevitability that he was either ignorant to or refused to see.

 

It’s the closing of a chapter and the beginning of another and when he finally regains the ability to move, he presses forward just slightly, to show Jared that he wants this too.  _God,_  how he wants this.

 

The kiss doesn’t move past that and they pull away at the same time, their foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed and all Jensen can hear is the sound of his own heart and Jared’s breath. But he can  _feel_  the pulse of Jared’s heart beneath his chest and it’s going just as fast as his, just as frantic and it calms him just enough to open his eyes.

 

Jared is looking straight at him, through him, and that shy smile that Jensen isn’t used to is in place. “Sleep with me tonight?” Jared asks, his voice barely a whisper, more a breath and Jensen nods slowly, feeling the coil in his gut give way and unravel until every part of his body feels like it’s humming, vibrating with relief.

 

They stand and Jared turns the TV off with the remote, shrouding the room in complete darkness save for the moonlight coming in through the windows. “Come on,” Jared says quietly and Jensen follows him, relying on his guidance to make it up the stairs and into the room.

 

It feels surreal, as he watches Jared shoo Sadie from the end of the bed and laugh as she goes to lay with Harley instead of going to her own bed beside him. Jared pulls his shirt over his head and throws it toward the hamper in the corner, looking at Jensen questioningly when he doesn’t move.

 

He shakes his head to break out of his thoughts and follows Jared’s lead, shucking his shirt and reaching for his belt. It only takes a few seconds and then they’re there, both undressed save for their boxers, standing on opposite ends of the bed. It still feels so unreal and Jensen is afraid to move, afraid that he’s going to do something to ruin it, or wake up, or…

 

“Jen,” Jared’s voice is soft. Somehow, he’s already in the bed, covers pulled up to his chest and he’s watching Jensen with an amused look on his face. He doesn’t say anything else, just curls onto his side and holds the comforter and sheet up for Jensen to climb under, which he does, still tentative and fearful of breaking the spell they’ve found themselves in.

 

Jared’s chest is so warm against his back as he leans into him, a large arm curling around his waist, hand tucking against his heart. Their knees bend and conform, Jared’s knee slipping though  the bend to tangle with Jensen’s and there, in that moment, Jensen sighs and feels for all the world like the luckiest man in the world. He gives up trying to fight any reservations as he feels Jared’s lips touch down on his shoulder, his gentle whisper of “Good-night, Jen,” a breeze against his skin.

 

They’d have a hell of a lot to talk about eventually, but not tonight. Tonight, Jensen is wrapped up in the one thing he could never get enough of, warm and safe and comfortable.

 

He’s asleep in minutes.

 

~*~

 

Some mornings, Jensen tries to stay in the in-between stage of sleep and awake as long as possible, holding on to the remnants of his dreams, the feeling of belonging and contentment before reality comes cruising in and shuts him down harder than  a prude on prom night. This morning, however, as he blinks awake and waits for the moment where his wonderful dreams are washed away, he suddenly realizes that everything that happened, kissing Jared, being held in the warmth of his arms, it wasn’t a dream. It  _wasn’t_  a  _dream_.

 

And when that realization hits Jensen, oh boy. His eyes shoot open, blinking against the harsh sunlight peeking through the cracks in Jared’s curtains, and he can  _feel_  Jared behind him, still. Neither of them have moved during the night and here they lay, Jared’s face tucked into the back of Jensen’s neck, his breath soft and steady against his shoulder, their legs still intertwined. But, no, he’s wrong. Something  _has_  changed over the course of the night, and as Jensen tucks his chin just a bit to look down at his chest, he sees it and he feels like he’s in one of those harlequin novels, or.. oh god, a bad fanfic.

 

But really, as he sees his fingers locked in between Jared’s, their hands pressed up tight against his chest directly over his heart, he doesn’t care if Armageddon really is coming, he’s  _that_  fucking happy.

 

And he’s still contemplating this newfound happiness, along with the impending dread of actually having to  _discuss_ this whole thing in the near future, when Jared shifts behind him, huffing a sigh that brushes against Jensen’s shoulder blade and makes him shiver in ways he didn’t think he was allowed to around Jared up until about maybe eight hours ago.

 

“You awake?” Jared whispers, his voice sleep rough and gritty.

 

“Yeah,” Jensen responds just as quietly, and Jared pulls him closer, fitting himself behind him even move and  _holy mother of morning glory._  “Uh… Jay?” Jensen squawks, the sudden hardness pressing  _just_  there against the crease of his ass not really a surprise except for the fact that it’s  _Jared_  and while Jensen suspected, he never really  _knew_  and yeah. Jared really did have an  _inordinately_  large cock.

 

Jared sniffles and snuggles deeper into Jensen’s neck. “Hmm?”

 

Jensen’s eyes are wide and he can’t seem to stop blinking at the wall in front of him. “I’m not the only one awake,” he finally says lamely and Jared chuckles.

 

“Noticed that, huh?” And Jared tilts his hips forward, just a bit, and Jensen has to fight his eyes rolling back in his head because  _jesus.Fucking.hell._

 

“Kinda hard not to,” he groans, pushing back with his ass, not knowing whether to be thankful of the thin material separating them or to curse it as he flexes his fingers around Jared’s, pulling them tighter to his chest.

 

It’s Jared’s turn to groan as he pushes forward again. “I eat my Wheaties,” he says with a strained breath and Jensen cracks his shit up harder than he’s ever remembered laughing. Ever. In the  _history_  of ever. It’s hysterical, and nervous and a release of tension and everything that he’s been holding in for the last … god,  _years_  and he can’t stop laughing.

 

There are tears streaming down his face as he feels Jared sit up and roll him onto his back to stare down at him, an amused grin tugging his lips, dimples pocketing on either side of his perfect mouth as Jensen continues, his laughs slowly dying down to chuckles, and then downright  _giggles_.

 

“Are you quite finished?” Jared asks, his eyes bright. He’s propped up on his hand, leaning over Jensen, his other hand rising to brush away the tears from under Jensen’s eyes.

 

“Jesus, Jared,” Jensen wheezes, his eyes wide. “Wheaties.” And this time, they both crack up. Jared is shaking his head, hair falling over his face as Jensen’s chest threatens to explode from lack of oxygen but it feels good, feels right to be lying here, in Jared’s bed, and laughing. It’s like, there’s nowhere else he could ever want to be and he would’ve never known it if…

 

It’s almost as if Jared was anticipating his train of thought, because he’s already somber, staring down at Jensen with this  _look_ , and Jensen’s laughter dies in his throat as he’s caught in the heat of that stare. This is it. The big moment of confession that Jensen has been  _so_ looking forward to. Kinda like how he looks forward to gutting himself with a rusted pair of pliers.

 

“Jay,” he starts but he’s quickly cut off as Jared kisses him soundly on the lips. No tongue, no seeking for it to be more than just a pressure, a reassurance and then it’s gone.

 

“Jen, please tell me I wasn’t wrong about this,” Jared says quickly as he drops his head to Jensen’s chest. “Please tell me you’re ok with this, that this is…” His words trail off and Jensen takes a moment to register what he’s said. For all his brainpower, Jensen really is  _no good_  at comprehension before about eighteen gallons of coffee when he wakes up.

 

“What? Jared, are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” he finally says, and even though there’s no heat in the words, he can feel Jared’s shoulders slump. He brings his hand up and runs it over the smooth, hard muscles and chuckles. “You weren’t wrong about this,” he tells him, tucking his chin to lay a kiss on Jared’s temple, his fingers running along the line of his spine. “And I’m definitely  _more_  than ok with it.”

 

Jared groans and falls onto his chest with a relieved sigh as Jensen lets out an exaggerated  _oomf_ , smiling as Jared lays a kiss on the underside of his jaw. They lay there, Jensen half smushed, Jared occasionally pressing his lips against Jensen’s stubbled jaw and neck, Jensen’s fingers playing idly on the planes of Jared’s back until Jared finally breaks the silence. “Hey, Jen?”

 

Jensen looks down at Jared, sees the evil twinkle in his eyes and before he has time to react, Jared opens his mouth and lets one rip right in his face… and yeah, they definitely had Indian food last night.

 

“I love you.”

 

Jensen smiles, despite the lingering stomach acid floating in the air and sighs, pulling Jared up closer to wrap his arms around him. “Love you too, you walking gas chamber.”

 

_Epilogue_

 

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Jared is yelping with each dab of the antiseptic being applied to his arm by the set medic and Jensen snorts.

 

“You are the biggest baby ever, you know that, right?” he comments, but still studies the small wound on Jared’s forearm. It had looked worse than it was, more blood than he figured was really necessary for the one inch gash. It had been hard at first to tell what blood was his and what was fx blood, but when they finally got him clean and they saw the broken skin, the wood digging in about half an inch into the muscle of his arm, Jensen winced with sympathy.

 

Jared mumbles and all Jensen can catch is “Stupid handle… fucking wood… ow ow ow,” and he’s fighting back his grin. Jared is the clumsiest person he’s ever met. Falling over a grave stone and breaking a shovel only to have the handle stab him in the forearm? Not the worst thing he’s seen him do.

 

“It’s not gonna need stitches,” the medic says to both of them. Everyone on set pretty much knows if you’re talking to one, you’re speaking to both, so his tone is loud enough to carry to Jensen standing above them. “I got all the splinters out and it’s clean. Might wanna take an anti-inflammatory before it starts to swell and get sore. I’ve got some Vicodin to knock the edge off.”

 

Jared’s ears perk and he lifts his head, suddenly  _very_  aware of the situation. “Vicodin? Really? Gimme Gimme.”

 

The medic just laughs and shakes his head as he closes up his kit, reaching in his pocket for a small bottle of pills. He drops two in Jared’s waiting hand.

 

“Oh, man. Gene, I love you, dude. Like, more than popsicles.” Jared moans before popping the pills and swallowing them dry.

 

“And  _that’s_  love,” Jensen finishes, grinning as he helps the medic to his feet. “You just made him the happiest giant puppy on the planet.”

 

“Glad to be of service,” Gene smiles, then turns to Jensen. “Will you make sure he cleans that and changes the dressings at least once before he goes to bed? Then twice tomorrow? Should be good to go without a bandage after that.”

 

Jensen nods, thanking him with a shake of his hand before plopping down beside Jared on the bench. “You alright?”

 

Jared nods, hair flying everywhere. “Gene gave me Vicodin,” he says proudly, stupid grin on his face, like he’s 4 years old and his teacher gave him a gold star.

 

Jensen shakes his head before patting Jared’s knee. “Come on sasquatch. Let’s finish up this scene so we can go home, yeah?”

 

*

 

Jensen drives them home three hours later, Jared propped up in the passenger seat of his truck, rattling on about the end-of-season wrap party and how Mike is gonna fly up and Tom wants to go  _all out_  and show up wearing the traditional Superman tights and have Mike dress up like Robin. Jensen laughs and shakes his head, wondering idly if he could convince  _Jared_  into a set of those tights. He grins at the mental image but keeps the thought to himself. Jared has a weird fear of tu-tus and Jensen can only imagine his reaction to being propositioned with wearing skin-tight lycra, regardless of the reason. It just wouldn’t be pretty.

 

Once they’re home, Jensen starts dinner while Jared heads to the bathroom to pop a few more ibuprofen and shower. They have a routine now. Nothing planned, mind you, just a simple way of doing things, assuming responsibilities and picking up the slack when one is too tired or busy. Jared cooked steaks last night, so tonight Jensen pulls out the chicken and potatoes, washing everything and preparing it as Jared’s booming voice echoes from the bathroom, his rendition of “Sweet Dreams” leaving more than a little to be desired.

 

Jensen kicks on the iPod and turns it up, grinning when he hears Jared’s protest from the bathroom. The house finally feels like  _home_ , their things mixed and mingled over the last few months. Jensen’s room has become almost like a dressing room, housing all of their clothes and shoes, while Jared’s room has been dubbed “theirs.” Jared had insisted, however, that they move all of Jensen’s new bedroom set into the room because “Jen, we picked it out  _together!_ ” So, after a weekend of moving shit and rearranging the bedroom, it was  _finally_ christened as the “Jennay n Jay-red House of Love” and that was that.

 

Jared is really a 6’5” girl.

 

Who is afraid of tu-tus. Don’t forget he’s afraid of tu-tus.

 

Jensen is hovering over the chicken as it pops in the skillet, almost completely buried in vegetable oil as Jared comes sashaying into the kitchen, dripping wet, a towel slung low on his hips.

 

“Why you gotta be like that?” Jared puts on his saddest face and when Jensen looks over, he has to bite his lip. Jared? In a towel?  _Hot._

 

“Dude, you sound like a cat being repetitively hit in the face with a tennis racket,” he deadpans, still leering over the oh, so tempting physical structure standing in front of him. Jared snorts and steps closer.

 

“What cha starin’ at, Jen?” he asks innocently, twitching his hips just slightly so that the towel falls even lower on his  _insane_  hipbones. He’s got his arms crossed against his chest and Jensen’s attention is drawn away from Jared’s lack of dress when he sees Jared’s cut, red and swollen and beginning to bleed a little.

 

He nods at the wound, “Come on, let’s get a bandage on that before anything.” He turns down the heat on the chicken and motions for Jared to sit at the dining room table before he goes to the closet to grab the gauze and tape. Something he learned the first season working with Jared?  _Always_  have medical supplies on hand.

 

Jared’s sitting at the table, looking absolutely edible when Jensen returns, his legs spread just enough for the towel to dip over his groin, chest still gleaming with the droplets of water dripping from his long hair and Jensen has to forcibly shake himself into focusing on the task at hand.

 

He kneels in front of Jared, settling his weight on one knee as Jared holds out his arm. He’s as gentle as he can be, wrapping the wound, but not too tight, avoiding any direct contact with the site as he thoroughly covers it several times. He cuts a piece of medical tape with his teeth and secures the loose end before looking up at Jared to find him watching with a thoughtful look on his face.

 

“It feel ok?” he asks and Jared nods.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Jensen waves him off and stands, heading back to check on the food. He finishes up dinner, Jared still sitting at the table, silently watching him. They can do this, sit in comfortable silence and not  _expect_  anything of the other person. It’s one of the things Jensen appreciates the most about Jared, his understanding of the quality of  _quiet time_  and the difference between an awkward silence and a comforting one.

 

As Jensen’s preparing the plates, Jared stands and heads to the downstairs bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a pair of track pants on, his hair finally towel died and finger-slicked away from his face. He grabs them two beers from the fridge and the utensils as Jensen places their plates on the table. Another new part of their routine is this, dinner together at the table. No TV, no phones, nothing. Just them. A little escape from their hectic lives. They only get to have a formal dinner about three times a week lately, but they always do it this way, focused solely on each other and the comforts of their home-cooked meal. Jared says it’s the Texas in them. Jensen says it’s because Jared’s a great, big girly man.

 

Jensen had thought things would change with them, but really, things were more of the same than they had ever been. They still worked their asses off, still bitched at each other like grade-school children, still laughed like idiots over stupid shit, still looked out for each other, still sought comfort in one another. It’s just, now, there’s this  _thing_ , and when Jensen thinks about it, it’s like a grounding force. Jared always grounded him, always kept him level; brought him up when he was down, always calmed him down when he was too hyped up. They complimented each other in every way imaginable and their relationship, the  _physical_  aspect of it anyways, is just an extension of that.

 

Jensen’s too jaded and seen too many things to believe in soul mates, but if he was put at gun point? He’d totally admit he thinks he has his.

 

Not to mention the sex is  _amazing_.

 

The first time Jared jerked him off, Jensen had come quicker than an awkward teenager in the backseat of a Chevy Nova. It was embarrassing, at least until he wrapped his lips around Jared’s cock and had him fisting a hand in his hair almost as quickly.

 

Jared had never been with a guy before Jensen, save for a few drunken kisses and groping sessions. Nothing memorable, nothing meaningful. But they had moved slowly, working their way up to the actual  _deed_. And with their work schedules being as crazy as they were, it had taken several months, but  _jesus have mercy_  when Jared finally bent Jensen over and pushed his way inside, Jensen felt like he’d had a religious experience, and told Jared as much as he screamed louder than Jamie Lee Curtis in that freaking closet scene from  _Halloween_.

 

Jensen shifts in his seat as his train of thought suddenly affects the way his jeans fit and Jared notices, a grin spreading his lips.

 

“What cha thinkin’ about, Jen?” he asks, that innocent voice back in full-force. Jensen bites his lip and stares down at his mashed potatoes and Jared laughs.

 

“You’re such a horny bastard,” Jared shakes his head, his voice amused.

 

Jensen doesn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him that if he wasn’t so freaking  _gorgeous_  all the time, being horny wouldn’t be such a problem. But yeah, he is, and yeah, it is. Instead of admitting any of that, though, he flicks his foot forward and kicks Jared in the shin.

 

“Hey! Be nice… I’m injured here!” Jared holds up his arm as if to prove his point and Jensen snorts so hard he almost chokes on his chicken.

 

“You’re always injured, you clumsy bastard,” he says after wiping the bits of chicken from his mouth.

 

“Maybe that’s cause I like it when you go all Dr. Ackles on me, ever think of that?” Jared quips before taking a bite of his biscuit, chewing obnoxiously and Jensen cocks his brow.

 

“Keep it up, Paddywhack, and I’ll get my stethoscope,” he warns, watching as Jared’s eyes go dark with the idea. Jared’s eyes always mystify Jensen the way they’re almost  _never_  the same color twice, except when he’s got that heat in them that says Jensen is in for a  _really_  good night. Like right now. And oh man, if little Jensen ain’t interested in the way Jared’s staring him down. Jensen finishes chewing his bite and swallows quickly, wiping his mouth before pushing away from the table. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

 

He feels Jared’s eyes on him as he heads out of the kitchen, this itch just underneath his shoulder blades that lets him know his lover’s watching him and Jensen smirks as he walks into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

 

He usually takes languid showers, enjoying the heat and taking his time in getting clean, but with Jared staring at him like  _that_ , coupled with the fact that they’re off for the next 26 hours, Jensen figures he can postpone his sauna for another day.

 

He’s washed and out of the shower in a little under eight minutes and when he exits the bathroom, he finds the lower half of the house in darkness. He glances toward the stairs and sees a faint light coming from the next level and grins as he makes his way toward their room.

 

He’s holding his towel in a fist as he walks into the room to find Jared sitting cross-legged on the floor, rubbing Sadie’s belly and cooing at her. Sadie barks happily when she sees Jensen and runs to sniff up his leg and he laughs, the feeling of her wet nose brushing his leg hairs tickling him.

 

He pets her, running his free hand over her fur vigorously before calling Harley with a whistle and leading the two pups into their room. The very first time Jared and he had messed around seriously, Jensen had freaked out when he felt a cold nose poking him in his ribs from the side of the bed. It was decided, then, that the dogs would have their own room, adorned with all of their toys and massive beds and everything they could ever want, rather than lock them out of the bedroom whenever the  _urge_  hit them.

 

The dogs didn’t seem to mind, and when Jared and Jensen were too exhausted to really care, they still sometimes jumped up and mingled their way around and between them in the bed until they got tired of being shuffled around and finally hopped down to go to their own room.

 

Jensen says goodnight to them and isgiven a pleased yip in return from both of them before shutting the 4 ft. gate and heading back to the room. Jared is waiting for him, sitting on top of the comforter now, his back against the headboard, hands rested on his broad chest. Jensen quirks his lips at the appraising look he receives when he enters.

 

“What cha lookin’ at, Jay?” he asks, mimicking Jared’s “innocent” voice before grinning all out, letting go of his grip on the towel and letting it fall away to the floor as he lifts himself onto the bed, crawling toward Jared on his knees.

 

“Where’s that stethoscope? I was lookin’ forward to it,” Jared teases as he brings a hand up to cup Jensen’s cheek, pulling his face close enough to press their lips together. Jensen smirks against his mouth, crawling and lifting his leg over Jared’s lap to straddle him. He pulls away just enough to bite down lightly on Jared’s lower lip before settling down on Jared’s thighs.

 

Jared sits back, his eyes trailing over Jensen’s face, his chest and lower before returning to meet his steady gaze. “Do you have any idea what you look like?”

 

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a very Dean-like expression and he cocks his head to the side, eyelids dropping to half mast. “I take it you like what you see, if  _this_  is any indication,” he says darkly, grinding his hips down just enough to put pressure on the increasingly hard mass resting between them. He rewarded with a short, low moan and Jared brings his hands to rest on Jensen’s hips as he arches forward to claim his mouth again.

 

The thin, silky material of Jared’s track pants glides against the insides of Jensen’s thighs as he rocks forward, his tongue slipping through Jared’s parted lips with a shared sigh. Kissing Jared is like breathing now, completely necessary to function, craved and ingrained in him. Their lips slip against each other as Jensen’s tongue slides against Jared’s, twisting around, tasting, savoring the taste of chicken and potatoes and beer and something distinctly male that makes Jensen’s stomach tighten with anticipation.

 

Jared’s hands tighten minutely around Jensen’s waist, fingers digging into the jut of his hips, pulling him closer still and Jensen’s hands push through Jared’s hair, caressing his scalp before trailing down to his neck, his shoulders. He drags his short fingernails over the muscled planes of Jared’s shoulders as he rises up slightly, Jared’s hands falling to cup his ass, kneading the skin as their tongues work with and against each other in a push, pull, tease, taste, take that is unique only to them, their bodies as in time with each other in this moment as when they’re in front of the camera.

 

“Jen,” Jared pants against his mouth, hands working the flesh of his ass, pulling the cheeks apart, fingertips wandering closer and closer, teasing the space behind his balls and Jensen can feel the pulse of blood as his dick hardens against the tremble in Jared’s chest. Jared’s mouth kisses along Jensen’s jaw, down, the wet trail of his lips cool and all too hot at the same time as he licks the exposed skin of Jensen’s neck, Jensen leaning his head back to give him better access. Jensen digs his fingers into Jared’s shoulders as Jared bites down at the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking a red welt into the skin as he returns his hands to Jensen’s waist, pulling him down as he simultaneously rocks upward.

 

Jensen’s eyes fall closed with the sensation of their arousals rubbing against each other through the satiny material, Jared’s tongue and lips savoring every inch of his throat, his moan vibrating against the slick skin. “Jay,” he groans as Jared pulls him down harder this time against him, hands spread and covering his lower back. Jensen opens his eyes and tucks his chin, his lips seeking out Jared’s and finding them in a desperate clash of lips and teeth.

 

Jensen shifts to better align them and their shared gasp when he bears down and  _grinds_  is lost in the shared space between their mouths. Heat is rising from the tops of Jensen’s thighs to his cheeks, flushing his skin, forcing out a sheen of sweat that Jared’s hands slick through as he tightens his hold around Jensen’s back just enough to roll them until Jensen is laid out on the bed beneath him, his head rested against the black pillow case.

 

“Gonna fuck you, Jen,” Jared says lowly, his voice deep as he bends his head to lick around the browned skin of Jensen’s nipple. He flicks his tongue against the hardening nub as his other hand works to push down his pants, his legs working to kick them away. “Gonna open you up,” he continues before sucking Jensen’s nipple into his mouth and sucking,  _hard_ , for just a moment, long enough to make Jensen gasp and writhe slightly beneath him, his hands coming up to pull through Jared’s hair. “Gonna suck you.” Lick. “Take you.” Bite. “Make you come so hard you can’t see straight.” Jensen can feel Jared’s fingertips trailing the path inside of his spread thighs, a caress, an exploration of his skin and he doesn’t even try to hold in the groan forming in his chest when those long, thick fingers slide up the length of his cock in the same, slow way.

 

Jared sits up slightly, his eyes watching Jensen’s face with longing and heated desire as he wraps his fingers around him, thumb smearing the pearly liquid on the tip around and down, the nail of his thumb coming up to flick at the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath the head. Jensen’s head pushes back against the pillow but he refuses to let his eyes fall closed. He stares back at Jared, his cock twitching in that massive hand as they say everything that ever needs to be said by simply  _looking_  at each other.

 

The thought itself is enough to make Jensen groan again as Jared continues his slow torture, sliding his loose fist downward, tightening at the base before pulling so excruciatingly slowly up to the tip. Jensen arches up to the touch, hips rising as far as they can under the pressure of Jared’s side pressing him down.

 

“Jay…” His voice is already feeling raw, throat tight against the whisper of a name and he whimpers as Jared squeezes his fist, his lips falling once again to his chest to press lightly over his heart.

 

He can’t remember a time when he  _didn’t_  need Jared’s lips on him, didn’t need him touching him, taking him over. A time when he couldn’t taste him. It all feels so far away, especially in this moment as Jared is pumping him even harder, teeth pulling and dragging against his fevered skin. Jared worships his body as if he’s laid out on a shrine rather than the bed they picked out together, kisses every inch of him, touches him, makes him fall farther and farther into the heated madness he’s come to relate to his lover’s touch.

 

“Jay,” he groans as Jared’s mouth begins to kiss his stomach, trailing his tongue down the lines running down his abdomen, his lips searing the skin with their warmth. Jensen’s fingers push through Jared’s hair again, fisting in the still-damp locks just enough to hold onto his sanity as he continues further down, hand steadily stroking him, eyes focused upward, watching Jensen as he falls apart.

 

Jared lets go of Jensen, pulls away slowly and Jensen relents his hold, letting his arm fall to the bed as Jared sits up on his knees, using his hands to part Jensen’s thighs. They fall open, exposing him and he’s unashamed, lets Jared drink in the sight of him, hard, willing and waiting for any and everything Jared wants from him. He’s panting slightly as Jared moves to kneel between his legs, and he can see Jared’s arousal, hard and thick, discolored next to his perfectly tanned skin and thinks  _I do that to him_  with a pride he can’t recall feeling with anyone other than his co-star, the feeling of  _right_ and  _complete_  and  _mine_  that encompasses him.

 

Jared smirks as he brings a hand up to stroke himself absently, sitting back on his heels. “You doin’ ok up there, old man?” he asks teasingly, but his voice is thick, gritty and Jensen swallows at the sight of his fist running over his blood flushed cock.

 

“Better than ok,” he chokes out, his eyes unable to stop watching until Jared lets go, moves to his hands, and Jensen can just  _imagine_  the way his ass looks, exposed to any audience behind him as he bends forward onto his elbows and licks a  thick swipe from the base of Jensen’s cock to the tip, the hardened organ bouncing slightly against his lips. He opens his mouth and sucks in just the tip, letting his tongue run over and around in circles, hot, wet heat coupled with just a little suction and a promise of so much more.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Jensen’s head pushes back against the pillows again, fingers gripping the sheets as sensation washes over him. Jared’s breath is breezing against the wetness when he releases Jensen and he shifts again, settling all of his weight on one elbow, his hand coming up to gently pluck Jensen’s arm from the sheets, guiding it to rest on his head.

 

Jensen groans and his hips twitch along with his cock as Jared smiles up at him, that soft, shy smile that’s reserved only for  _him_. “Want you to…” he trails off, his eyes flickering to Jensen’s cock and Jensen can’t restrain the full-body shiver at Jared’s words. He nods feverishly, pushing lightly with his palm and Jared follows the lead.

 

Jared’s index finger and thumb come up to wrap around the base of Jensen’s cock, loose but still warm as he lets Jensen push him down to engulf his dick. Jensen doesn’t push further once Jared’s lips conform to his girth, lets Jared get used to the weight of him against his tongue, giving himself time to enjoy the feeling of Jared’s mouth wrapped sinuously around him like they were born for just this.

 

Jared had never taken another man’s dick in his mouth before Jensen, but his willingness to please, his  _dedication_  to it, made Jensen’s blood boil under his skin the first time he’d asked. And this? Jared asking Jensen to fuck his mouth? To take him as he saw fit?  _This_ was possibly the hottest fucking thing Jensen had ever experienced in his life.

 

Jared hums lowly around half of Jensen’s cock and Jensen’s hand tightens fractionally in his hair, pushing down slightly as his hips rise from the bed. Jared moves to take him in, his mouth widening just a bit, the breath coming harshly from his nose tickling the hairs of Jensen’s thigh and he moans, slow and loud as he pulls his hips away.

 

Jensen shifts his hips up again, watching in rapt fascination as his dick disappears into that beautiful mouth, the mouth of his lover, his best friend. Jared’s eyes are closed in concentration, nostrils flared, the tentative grip at the base of Jensen’s cock disappearing as Jared lets his hand fall to his own cock, stroking slowly as he moans again, the vibrations shooting through Jensen like lightening and he feels something inside him snap.

 

Jensen shifts to his side slightly, his hand never leaving Jared’s head as he finds better leverage, and he starts up a rhythm, his hips working in short bursts in and out of that slick friction, watching as Jared’s eyes flash open, wide, staring up at him as he fucks his mouth, inching deeper and deeper each time, and Jared’s eyes fall closed again as he starts stripping his own cock with abandon, his moans breaking any reservations Jensen has about hurting him, pushing too far.

 

His fingers tighten in Jared’s hair, pulling him forward with each thrust, feeling Jared fight past his gag reflex and fucking  _swallowing_  when Jensen’s cock hits the back of his throat and Jensen lets out a shuddering breath, afraid of losing it as Jared continues to work his throat, tensing around him until Jensen’s crying out, his cock slipping past Jared’s mouth and down into his throat and the fucker keeps  _swallowing_  around him and Jensen idly wonders where the hell he learned  _that_ particular trick.

 

Jensen can feel his orgasm coming quick, a tingle that starts in his toes and begins to work its way up to his spine and he pulls out of Jared’s mouth suddenly, clamping a tight hold around the base of his cock as he falls to the bed, panting, cursing under his breath.

 

Jared is panting, too, his breath quick and hot against Jensen’s hip. Both of them lay still, willing away their orgasms because they want this to  _last_. Always want it to last forever, always holding themselves back so they can have more of that taste, more of each other.

 

“Holy shit,” Jensen sighs, looking down as Jared begins to move back to settle beside him. “Where the hell did you learn that?” he asks, not really worried about anything, just really curious because _fuck_  that was amazing.

 

Jared laughs quietly as he wraps an arm around Jensen’s waist, pulling him over to his side and up against him, both of them letting out a groan as their still engorged and feeling-slightly-neglected cocks push against one another. “Wanted to surprise you,” he whispers before pressing his lips against Jensen’s, his tongue tracing the seam of Jensen’s mouth.

 

“Well, mission accomplished, champ,” Jensen murmurs against his mouth, unable to fight the urge to push his hips forward and he smirks as Jared lets out a low growl, biting down on his lower lip. He waits until Jared’s teeth release him before surging forward again, forcing down his own groan as he whispers, “So what was that you were saying about taking me…” He pulls back and pushes harder, feels Jared’s dick slide beside his and twitch. “Something about making me come so hard I can’t see straight?”

 

Jared let out a low groan as he pulls away, rolling to open the nightstand drawer and search through it with blind fingers. He rolls back and stares at Jensen with dark eyes as he opens the acquired bottle of lube, pouring the contents onto his fingers without bothering to look down at what he’s doing.

 

It’s been almost two weeks since they received their “clean and free” results from the clinic, and they’d celebrated by throwing away every condom in the house. It wasn’t so much because fucking raw  _felt_  better, but more a matter of their trust and dedication to each other. They both  _knew_  the other wasn’t going to sleep with someone else, both  _knew_  that this was it. And right now, watching Jared’s eyes as he rolls his wet fingers together, spreading the slick that’ll soon open Jensen up enough to take Jared’s cock in as deep as he can, that sense of  _complete_  comes back in full force, filling his chest with familiar warmth because he knows, he  _knows_  that nothing can come between them. Not in life, not in making love. Nothing.

 

His mouth is dry and his eyes are burning as Jared stares into him, lovingly, heatedly, and Jensen knows he’s a mirror image of the  _I need you so much it hurts_  coming through loud and clear in those hazel orbs.

 

Jared shifts closer, his gaze never breaking as he slides his knee between Jensen’s, guiding Jensen to rise and Jensen does, propping himself open, foot holding the weight of his spread leg as Jared reaches between them.

 

They’re silent as Jared works a lone digit over the crack of Jensen’s ass, coating him, circling his opening in a lazy trail. Jensen’s breath hitches as Jared’s finger pushes inside, stopping just inside and working in and out before pushing further. Jared scoots closer and Jensen wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him the rest of the way until their chests are pressed against each other, their mouths breathing the same air, lips barely touching as they continue to stare.

 

Jensen can feel himself opening up for Jared as he fingers him, taking care to ensure the lube coats every inch of his insides before pulling his finger free and adding another. Jensen gasps and holds tighter to Jared, eyes closing at the initial burn, forcing himself to breath steady as Jared pushes steadily into him until he’s buried to his knuckles. Jensen’s breath shudders as Jared twists his wrist, spreading him open, pleasure with a blunt undertone of pain making its way up Jensen’s spine and settling in his gut.

 

Jared kisses him, deep and wet as the push pull continues, pain slowly dissipating into a haze of  _yesyesmore_  as Jensen begins to rock back into his hand, groaning as Jared bends his fingers, stroking him on the inside, just barely brushing against his prostate and leaving him with the longing for more.

 

When the third finger enters him, Jensen is so lost in the feel of Jared against him, the solidness of his body, the sweat on his skin, the rasp of his breath and the taste of his tongue, he barely registers the addition. He simply rocks back, moaning as those long fingers stretch him open, spread and crook and slide.

 

“Jen,” Jared is rubbing against him now, his cock heavy and slick against Jensen’s and he opens his eyes to witness the want, the need overtaking Jared’s face and he nods, quickly, unsteadily.

 

“Yeah.” And then Jared is rolling him onto his back, pulling his hand free and coating it with more of the slippery substance before slicking his cock thoroughly as Jensen watches in frenzied anticipation.

 

He spreads his legs, bringing them high as Jared leans forward, bracing his weight on his hand slightly above Jensen’s head. He shivers as he feels Jared rub the tip of his cock along the crease of his ass, hot and wet and then slowly, the pressure starts as Jared pushes forward. Jared’s kissing him again, and he opens his mouth willingly to suck on his tongue as the familiar burn surges through him, pushing the sweat from his pores, alighting his senses to the steady throb radiating from where Jared is stretching him so achingly slowly, never hurriedly, never wanting to hurt him.

 

He tilts his hips upward, feet rising from the bed to wrap around Jared’s back and he concentrates on the taste of his lover’s mouth, the gorgeous vibrations coming from somewhere deep inside him as he works his way inside until finally, Jared stills, his balls resting against the cheeks of Jensen’s ass and he’s buried so far inside Jensen feels as if he’s actually  _part_ of him.

 

Jared pulls his mouth away, breath quick and labored, a forced out “Fuck, you’re so tight,” echoing in the silence around them. And then, without him even needing to say it, Jared’s moving, pulling his hips away slowly, cock sliding out half way before easing back inside just as slow.

 

Jensen’s fingers dig into Jared’s biceps as his mouth falls open, silently pleading for more. Jared obliges, this time pulling away almost completely, thrusting inside just enough to send a spark of pleasure through Jensen that seems to echo throughout his body in surround sound. “Ahh… fuck.” He doesn’t know if the words are his or Jared’s as they set a pace, Jensen’s hips rising to meet each of Jared’s long thrusts, the sound of their flesh meeting cracking through the air and mingling with their gasps and moans.

 

Time speeds up and slows down in increments too extreme for Jensen to find the boundaries and he arches as Jared’s pace increases, cries out, bruises Jared’s skin as he clutches and holds tight, sweat clinging to them and easing the way as their bodies move against each other, each pulsing thrust sending Jensen higher and further up the mattress.

 

“Jensen…” Jared breathes, kissing him fast and fierce as he slams into him, the smack of their skin loud in the air. Jensen’s gasping for breath, unable to see past the blinding pleasure as Jared pounds into his prostate with every odd thrust, body trembling with the rising need for release.

 

“Wanna come, Jay,” he chokes on his own gasps, and hears Jared’s quick intake of breath as he shifts, bringing a hand between them to wrap around Jensen’s leaking cock, not gentle this time, but forceful, fingers locking tight around the base.

 

Jared growls as Jensen bucks upward, fucking himself into that large fist as it begins to stroke him in time with Jared’s torturous rhythm, unrelenting, powerful. “Come on.” Jared’s voice is broken, ragged and Jensen can feel as Jared slams into that spot at the same time as he twists his fist. A moan tears from his throat and he’s coming, hard and long, sensation coming in from all sides and coiling before bursting inside him and arching his spine. Hot liquid sprays his stomach, dripping from Jared’s fingers and Jared rides him through it, his hand never pausing in it’s coaxing even as his rhythm stutters and stops and suddenly Jensen can  _feel_  Jared inside him, swelling and pulsing as he comes, coating his insides with searing wetness, claiming him. Jensen clenches around him, his sensitive cock twitching at the sensation and Jared groans as Jensen milks him until he’s spent.

 

Their hearts are racing, breath coming in hard pants as they try to regain some sort of claim on sanity and Jensen’s eyes close as he focuses on the act of breathing, enjoying the post-orgasmic haze he’s drifting in. Jared shifts above him, and the loss of heat makes Jensen open his eyes to find Jared walking on unsteady legs to the attached bathroom.

 

The sound of water running and a few seconds later, Jared is kneeling beside him, wiping his chest and laying kisses where the water from the towel rests on his skin. Jensen wants to let out a complaint as Jared moves between his still spread legs, but then Jared is cleaning him up with such a gentle touch, he can’t bring himself to do anything but watch in pleased adoration.

 

“I love you,” Jensen says quietly as he watches Jared clean himself, careful not to rub too hard on his still-sensitive dick. Jared eyes come up and meet his and he smiles wistfully before tossing the towel toward the hamper and motioning for Jensen to lift up.

 

Jensen does, and Jared pulls the covers down, settling beside Jensen before pulling the sheets up and over, sealing them in the softness. “I love you, too,” Jared says as he presses his lips against Jensen’s chest, over his heart.

 

“And I  _really_  love that new thing you did with your throat,” Jensen adds with a smirk, bringing a hand up to run through Jared’s hair as his lover chuckles.

 

“Yeah… who knew burping could actually help ya learn how to control your gag reflex?”

 

Jensen’s hand stills as he plays over Jared’s words a moment, the connotations finally sinking in and he laughs, loud and sudden, shaking his head. “You’re such a dork.”

 

Jared grins up at him before sniffling and snuggling back into his side. “Yeah, but you love me.”

 

And yeah, he really does.


End file.
